"Peter was in good humor. He was smiling all over."
Mr. Dowling paused, so his superior said, "Oh!" Then realizing that the manager was still silent, as though expecting a question, he said, "Why did he come?"
"He wishes us to help him mend his fences. Some of them need repairing. The wear and tear of political life is severe."
"I see—I see," responded Mr. Barnstable, reflectively, putting his finger-tips together. "What sort of a man is Peter?"
Mr. Dowling hesitated a moment, merely because he was uncertain how to deal with such innocence. Having concluded that frankness was the most business-like course, he answered, bluffly, "He's an infernal thief. He's out for the stuff."
"The stuff? I see—I see. Very bad, very bad. It's an outrage that under our free form of government such men should get a foothold in our cities. I hope, Dowling, you gave him the cold shoulder, and let him understand that under no consideration whatever would we contribute one dollar to his support."
"On the contrary, I gave him a cigar and pumped him."
"Pumped him?"
"I wanted to find out what he knows."
"Dear me. And—er—what does he know?"