"I resent your tone," protested Shelby.
"And I, sir, resent your inquiry."
"You must have received many like it. However, you may keep your bulletins. Those of the consulting physicians are probably more reliable."
With this shaft he turned, but Dr. Crandall was beforehand and closed the door.
"Not yet, sir, not yet," he said grimly. "I have a bulletin for you, deem its worth what you will. And I have more. I must administer some nasty medicine. My patient will recover, sir, and no thanks to you."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Yes, you do."
"You accuse me of lying—"
"Bah, sir, stop your ruffling. Now for your physic. At the instance of my lifelong friend, Seneca Bowers, I consented against my better judgment to preside last month at your ratification meeting, and so lent you, as I may say, my public indorsement. I shall not publicly stultify myself by repudiating that action, but my vote, thank Heaven, I never pledged. I warn you, sir, that, as sure as I see the sun rise on election day, I shall cast my ballot for your opponent, or my name's not Crandall."
"Very well," sneered Shelby, coolly. "If your political allegiance follows your fee, there's no more to be said."