"Those rascals," continued Rockwell, "never would have passed it--the men who own them would never have permitted them to pass it, no matter how unmistakable the demand of the people might be,--if they had not counted on one thing."
Merriam perceived that an interrogation was demanded of him and took his cue.
"What is that?" he asked.
"They are counting," said Rockwell impressively, "they are counting on Mayor Black. They have believed the whole time that he can be depended on to veto it. And they are right! The scoundrels usually are. The Mayor, as every one knows, is a mere puppet. He will do as he is told. Only, the League has made such a stir, the people are so tremendously aroused, that he is frightened. And so, before acting, before writing the veto, which he has sense enough to see is likely to mean political suicide, he is coming here to-night to see Senator Norman, to get his instructions. That's what it amounts to. Norman holds the State machine in the hollow of his hand. If Norman tells him to veto, Black will veto. It may be bad for him with the voters if he does it, but it would be certain political death for a man like him to cross Norman. And Norman will say, 'Veto!'"
"I see," said Merriam.
Which was hardly true; he did not as yet see an inch ahead of his nose into this thing, but he thought it sounded well.
"Where do I come in, though?" he added, belying his assumption of sagacity.
"That's my very next point," said Rockwell.
His chair came down on all fours. He squared it to the table, laid his neglected cigarette aside, put his arms on the cloth, and looked very straight at Merriam.
"Are you aware, Mr. Merriam, that you bear a most striking physical resemblance to Senator Norman?"