"A bit stiff, that U. S. Supreme decision," said the Governor, taking them, and looking at Wilkinson. "It seemed to me unnecessarily rough."
Wilkinson shrugged his shoulders.
"With the National Banks against me, how can the U. S. courts be for me—that's what I'd like to know?" he asked.
"Will you hear me now, Governor," interposed Morehead.
For an instant the Governor hesitated. Then he replied that he would send for him when he was ready; that he had to read the case all through, ending with:
"I've forgotten half of it. I'll read it and then I'll set a day...."
But that day was long forthcoming. For it was not until three weeks later that Colonel Morehead heard anything relating to their visit to the Governor in Albany. And then, one morning to his surprise, Governor Beekman presented himself at his office in Broadway, and handing him a personal memorandum, he said:
"I was down here and thought we'd clean these up first. I'm going to Murgatroyd's to look at the original exhibits when I'm through here—or he'll probably send them to my office."
The Colonel gave the man before him one long searching glance. He noted that the Governor's face was unnaturally flushed; there were deep lines on it; he had the appearance of an over-worked man.
"Must have burned some midnight oil on this thing, Eliot?" said Morehead.