“Bruce’s election will not mean a cent to you. You will get no offices. Moreover, the control of your party machinery will be sure to pass from you to him.”
“You’re right,” said the old man promptly. “See how quick I am to acknowledge the corn. However, after all,” he added philosophically, “what you’re getting is really enough for two. You take the senatorship, and I’ll take the fifty thousand. What do you say to that?”
“What about Bruce—if I accept?”
“Bruce? Bruce is just a fire to smoke the coon out. When the coon comes down, I put out the fire.”
“You mean?”
“I mean that I’ll see that Bruce don’t get elected.”
“You’ll make sure about that?”
“Oh, you just leave Bruce to me!” said Blind Charlie with grim confidence. “And now, do you accept?”
Blake was silent. He still shrunk from this undesirable alliance. Outside, Katherine again breathlessly hung upon his answer.
“What do you say?” demanded the old man sharply. “Do you accept? Or do I smash you?”