"No," he had said, "I won't descend to that depth. If I can't be elected without the aid of those things, then let the people defeat me." And he had persisted in this refusal, despite the entreaties of his political friends and the disgust of his managers.
It was a quarter before nine; and at nine o'clock it was the custom for Governor Clinton to meet his party managers every morning, to discuss the speeches of his opponent made the night before and to plan out the trend for the evening's speeches.
"This vile abuse of last night of Bellingham's I guess will settle it," said Blakely again; and he went to his safe and brought out the certified copies of the legal proceedings. As he did so Governor Clinton came into the office. He looked flushed and angry.
"Have you read that scoundrel's attack on me, Jim?" he asked, hurriedly.
"Yes," said Blakely in a casual manner, as if it was of no importance. He knew enough now not to try to force the Governor's hand.
"Well?" said the Governor.
"Well," answered Blakely, "it's only what you've got to expect all the rest of the campaign." Clinton hesitated.
"No," he said; "Jim, I've got enough. He's pushed me too far. I can't keep silent any longer. Have you got those documents you were telling me about?" Blakely pointed silently to the papers on his desk and lit his pipe. Clinton examined them with curiosity.
"How do you account for last night's speech?" he asked.
"Drunk again," replied Blakely. "Tell him, Bill." Dawson repeated to the Governor what he had just told Blakely.