Blaney pumped up all the bluster he could.
“All I want to find out is, who wrote that story in The Watchman.”
“That's all, is it?” said Jim. “I could have told you that downstairs. I wrote it.”
Then Blaney broke loose. He was working himself up to a perfect frenzy of denials, accusations, threats, and blasphemy. The man was a pitiable spectacle, and Jim, leaning back against the locked door, watched him in mingled amusement and contempt. He was surprised that Blaney should have become so utterly demoralized. He had never considered the contractor a big man, or even a good fighter, but that he would go to pieces so easily was unexpected. He did not know how violent the explosion in Tillman had been. The town sided with Jim Weeks, and when the people realized how he was to be sold out, the storm exceeded the editor's wildest expectations, and Blaney was brought face to face with political ruin.
Jim let the almost hysterical rage expend itself before he interrupted. Then he said:—
“Shut up, Blaney. You've made a fool of yourself long enough. And I've fooled with you long enough. You've been trying ever since you were alderman to throw me down. You've talked about how much you were going to do, and all the while we've been laughing at you. Then this McNally came along and set up you and Williams to a dinner at the Hotel Tremain and paid you some money and gave you this fool contract, to get you to vote the Tillman City proxies his way.”
Jim took a copy of the contract out of his pocket and read it aloud, while Blaney listened in stupid amazement. “McNally is a smart man,” Jim went on, folding the contract and replacing it, “and he sized you up just about right when he figured he could take you in with a fake like this, that isn't worth the paper it is written on. And when you'd got fooled so you thought C. & S.C. would pay par for your stock, what do you do but go around and tell a man you know is working for me all about it! And now when I've got you just where I want you, where you can only wriggle, you come around and try to scare me. Do you know what you are? You're just a plain damn fool.”
Blaney did not seem to hear the last words of what was probably the longest speech Jim Weeks had ever made. His attention had been riveted on something else.
“Bridge,” he exclaimed. “Bridge gave that away, did he?”
“Yes,” said Jim; “Bridge gave me this contract. There's just about one more fool thing you can do, Blaney, and that is try to touch him. Try it! Why, man, if you do I'll break you to pieces.” The words had a ring in them, but Jim quieted instantly. “I'm looking out for Bridge.”