“Don’t get excited, Mr. Ridgway. You have mistaken my purpose, seh. I had no intention of drawing,” he stammered with a pitiable attempt at dignity.
“Liar,” retorted his merciless foe, crowding him toward the door.
“I don’t care to have anything more to do with you. Our relations are at an end, seh,” quavered Pelton as he vanished into the outer once and beat a hasty retreat to the elevator.
Ridgway returned to his chair, laughing ruefully. “I couldn’t help it, Steve. He would have it. I suppose I’ve made one more enemy.”
“A nasty one, too. He’ll stick at nothing to get even.”
“We’ll draw his fangs while there is still time. Get a good story in the Sun to the effect that I quarreled with him as soon as I discovered his connection with this mining extension bill graft. Have it in this afternoon’s edition, Steve. Better get Brayton to write it.”
Steve nodded. “That’s a good idea. We may make capital out of it after all. I’ll have an editorial in, too. ‘We love him for the enemies he has made.’ How would that do for a heading?”
“Good. And now we’ll have to look around for a candidate to put against Mott. I’m hanged if I know where we’ll find one.”
Eaton had an inspiration.
“I do?”