"I think I'll go on the theory that it was accidental."
I hadn't expected that, and I couldn't approve.
"As your lawyer, I must warn you that you are taking a serious risk," I said earnestly. "If Barker shared his secret with someone, who has gone with it to Burleigh, you are exactly in your old situation. It would be better to let the sleeping Samovar lie and give up the mayoralty."
He continued to smoke for a minute, but I saw the obstinate look in his eye that a mettled horse tales on when he doesn't mean to heed your hints.
"You don't understand, Hilton," he said after a moment, "but since Barker's death I have felt free for the first time in fifteen years. I like the sensation. Very likely I have gone drunk on it and lost my senses, but I like the feeling so much that I am going to snap my fingers at Burleigh and pretend that he has no more power to influence my actions than he would have had if--well, if Tom Johnson had never got into trouble."
"You think the mayoralty is worth the risk?" I asked.
"The mayoralty? No! Not for a minute. But--this sense of freedom is."
"But it is your freedom that you are risking."
He stood up, and though I could not commend his judgment, I had to admire his courage. There was something finely determined in his attitude as he tossed away his cigar and put his hands in his pockets.
"I am going to have it out with my evil destiny this time," he said, with a quick laugh. "Better be hanged than to skulk longer. I shall go on the theory that Burleigh has merely been reading some giddy detective stories."