“Flint has treated me like a dog,” he declared.
“Mr. Flint never pretended,” answered Mr. Vane, coldly, “that the nomination and election of a governor was anything but a business transaction. His regard for you is probably unchanged, but the interests he has at stake are too large to admit of sentiment as a factor.”
“Exactly,” exclaimed Mr. Hunt. “And I hear he hasn't treated you just right, Hilary. I understand—”
Hilary's eyes flashed for the first time.
“Never mind that, Adam,” he said quietly; “I've been treated as I deserve. I have nothing whatever to complain of from Mr. Flint. I will tell you why I came here to-night. I haven't felt right about you since that interview, and the situation to-night is practically what it was then. You can't be nominated.”
“Can't be nominated!” gasped Mr. Hunt. And he reached to the table for his figures. “I'll have four hundred on the first ballot, and I've got two hundred and fifty more pledged to me as second choice. If you've come up here at this time of night to try to deceive me on that, you might as well go back and wire Flint it's no use. Why, I can name the delegates, if you'll listen.”
Mr. Vane shook his head sadly. And, confident as he was, the movement sent a cold chill down the Honourable Adam's spine, for faith in Mr. Vane's judgment had become almost a second nature. He had to force himself to remember that this was not the old Hilary.
“You won't have three hundred, Adam, at any time,” answered Mr. Vane. “Once you used to believe what I said, and if you won't now, you won't. But I can't go away without telling you what I came for.”
“What's that?” demanded Mr. Hunt, wonderingly.
“It's this,” replied Hilary, with more force than he had yet shown. “You can't get that nomination. If you'll let me know what your campaign expenses have been up to date,—all of 'em, you understand, to-night too,—I'll give you a check for them within the next two weeks.”