"Of course," he pursued, "I expect to win—I always expect to win, because failure may fight its way to a perch on any man's banner, but it's sure to lodge on the standard of the man that sits and waits for it. But I can't be sure of O'Malley."
"I guess whatever headquarters orders will go with him, all right."
"On the surface, perhaps; but, if he wants to, he can have his own candidate run on an independent ticket, and then he can quietly knife me at the polls."
"Would he have the nerve?"
"It is precisely what he did election before last. I am sure of that, and yet nobody has ever been able to prove it. That is where I look for your help."
Rose took his hand again, and pressed it reassuringly.
"I always take care of my friends," she smiled, "and you sure have been good to me. Where do I come in on this game?"
"Just yet you don't have to come in at all. It may be that everything will be honest and above-board—I trust it will—and in that case you need not disturb yourself."
"But if it ain't?"
"If it isn't,"—he looked at her kindly, but keenly, from under his heavy lids—"I shall want you to let me know just as soon as O'Malley begins to make preparations for registering voters from this house."