“Who makes this offer?” demanded Mr. Hunt, with more curiosity than alarm; “Mr. Flint?”
“No,” said Hilary; “Mr. Flint does not use the road's funds for such purposes.”
“Henderson?”
“No,” said Hilary; “I can't see what difference it makes to you.”
The Honourable Adam had an eminently human side, and he laid his hand on Mr. Vane's knee.
“I think I've got a notion as to where that money would come from, Hilary,” he said. “I'm much obliged to you, my friend. I wouldn't take it even if I thought you'd sized up the situation right. But—I don't agree with you this time. I know I've got the nomination. And I want to say once more, that I think you're a square man, and I don't hold anything against you.”
Mr. Vane rose.
“I'm sorry, Adam,” he said; “my offer holds good after to-morrow.”
“After to-morrow!”
“Yes,” said the Honourable Hilary. “I don't feel right about this thing. Er—good night, Adam.”