The newspaper man's brain worked rapidly. Going over the entire conversation with Langdon and what he had seen of him, he was certain that the Mississippian believed what he said—that, moreover, the belief was deeply rooted. His long newspaper training had educated Haines in the ways of men, their actions and mental processes—what naturally to expect from a given set of circumstances. He felt a growing regard, an affection, for this unassuming old man before him, who did not know and probably would be slow to understand the hypocrisy, the cunning trickery of lawmakers who unmake laws.
"Sufficient reason for you, Senator," Haines added. "You have not been in politics very long, have you?" he queried dryly.
A wry smile wrinkled the Mississippian's face.
"Been in long enough to learn some unpleasant things I didn't know before." He remembered Martin Sanders.
"Will you allow me to tell you a few more?" asked Haines.
Langdon inclined his head in acquiescence. "Reckon I'd better know the worst and get through with it."
"Well, then, Senator, somebody from Nebraska will vote for what you want in the way of the naval base because he'll think then you'll help him demand money to dredge some muddy creek that he has an interest in.
"Somebody in Pennsylvania will vote for it because he owes a grudge and wants to hurt the Philadelphia ship people.
"You'll get the Democrats because it's for the South, but if your bill was for the west coast they might fight it tooth and nail, even with the Japanese fleet cruising dangerously near.
"And the Republicans may vote for it because they see a chance to claim glory and perhaps break the solid South in the next presidential campaign. You catch the idea?"