“Schlurger is safe. I don’t know about Kennedy.”
“Can you find out for us?”
“Yes. When would you like to know?”
“Can you see him now? I’ll wait here.”
Peter rose, looking at his cigar with a suggestion of regret. But he rubbed out the light, and left the room. At the office, he learned the number of Kennedy’s room, and went to it. On knocking, the door was opened only a narrow crack.
“Oh! it’s you,” said Kennedy. “Come in.”
Peter entered, and found Maguire seated in an easy attitude on a lounge. He noticed that his thumbs were once more tucked into his waistcoat.
“Mr. Kennedy,” said Peter without seating himself, “there is an attempt being made to get a city delegate to nominate Porter. It seems to me that is his particular friends’ business.”
Maguire spoke so quickly that Kennedy had no chance to reply: “Kennedy’s promised to nominate him, Mr. Stirling, if you won’t.”
“Do you feel that you are bound to do it?” asked Peter.