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"I'm not forgetting it, and I'm giving him all the credit that is due him. But you can't blame me for thinking a little of my mother and sister, and myself. You know what a prison sentence means to a man, better than I do. I couldn't stand for that." Whitredge stroked his long chin and looked past me out of the little grated window. "We'd hope for the best, of course," he returned.
If they had not heard things concerning his health, and other things, they would still feel safe. He seems the only calm man to be found in the hall but is the calm aberration? A conference in the corner of the platform, while the fourth ballot is progressing, is held between Senators Whitredge and Greene, Mr. Ridout and Mr. Manning.
"No, Whitredge," said Mr. Vane, slowly, without taking his eye from the senator's, "and it won't be until this convention is over. Do you understand?" "That's the first good news I've heard this morning," said the senator, with the uneasy feeling that, in some miraculous way, the Honourable Hilary had read the superseding orders from highest authority through his pocket.
The Honourable Hilary, who was looking over some papers, shot at him a glance from under his shaggy eyebrows. "Came in here to find out didn't you, Whitredge?" he replied. "What?" said the senator, taken aback; and for once at a loss for words. The Honourable Hilary rose and stood straighter than usual, and looked the senator in the eye. "What's your diagnosis?" he asked.
"I wanted to have a little private conversation with you which might be of considerable interest to us both." And Mr. Crewe laid down on the desk a somewhat formidable roll of papers. "I trust the presence of Senator Whitredge will not deter you," answered Mr. Flint. "He is an old friend of mine." Mr. Crewe was on his feet again with surprising alacrity, and beside the senator's chair.
Ridout, voicing the gesture; "they tell me that Tom Gaylord's done some pretty slick work. Now I leave it to you, Manning, if that isn't a mess!" At this moment the conversation was interrupted by the appearance on the stairway of the impressive form of United States Senator Whitredge, followed by a hall boy carrying the senatorial gripsack.
I don't know but what we could show that the law is unconstitutional, if we had to. But it won't come to anything like that, I guess." I looked him straight in the eyes. "Whitredge, who has retained you this time?" I asked. "I don't know what you mean by that, Bert."
Among other things, she had heard her father say that he would bear all the expenses, meaning I supposed that he would see to it that Whitredge did not lose his fee. I have more than once had professional mesmerists try to hypnotize me, without success. But there is little doubt that Agatha Geddis turned the trick for me that afternoon in the steel cell of the Glendale police station.
So absorbed had he been in his momentous news, and solicitous over the result of his explanation, that his eye looked outward for the first time, and even then accidentally. "Hilary!" he cried; "for God's sake, what's the matter? Are you sick?" "Yes, Whitredge," said Mr. Vane, slowly, "sick at heart."
"O ought to have come right to me," said Mr. Braden, leaning over until his face was in close proximity to Mr. Crewe's. "Whitredge told you to come to me, didn't he?" Mr. Crewe was a little taken aback. "The senator mentioned your name," he admitted. "He knows. Said I was the man to see if you was a candidate, didn't he? Told you to talk to Job Braden, didn't he?" Now Mr.
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