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Updated: June 5, 2025
"That's all right, Mr. Paret. Of course I don't want to question your judgment, sir. And you say he's a friend of yours." "I said I knew him at college." "But you will pardon me," the Colonel went on, "when I tell you that I've had some experience with that breed, and I have yet to see one of 'em you couldn't come to terms with in some way in some way," he added, significantly.
"Hello, Jim," said the Colonel. "I was just wondering where you were." "Sure, you must have been!" replied the gentleman sarcastically. But the Colonel's geniality was unruffled. "Mr. Maker," he said, "you ought to know Mr. Paret. Mr. Maker is the representative from Ward Five of your city, and we can always count on him to do the right thing, even if he is a Democrat. How about it, Jim?" Mr.
Young appeared he proved to be an oily gentleman of about forty, inclining to stoutness, with one of those "blue," shaven faces. "Want me, Colonel?" he inquired blithely, when the door had closed behind him; and added obsequiously, when introduced to me, "Glad to meet you, Mr. Paret. My regards to Mr. Watling, when you go back. "Alf," demanded the Colonel, "what do you know of this fellow Krebs?"
He rose courteously and gave me his hand, and a glance that is unforgettable. "It is good of you to come, Mr. Paret," he said simply, as though his summons had not been a command. "Perhaps you know some of these gentlemen." One of them was our United States Senator, Theodore Watling. He, as it turned out, had been summoned from Washington.
It was little less than a command. "Heard of you, Mr. Paret. Glad to know you. Sit down, won't you?" The inner room was almost dark. I made out a bed in the corner, and propped up in the bed a man; but for the moment I was most aware of a pair of eyes that flared up when the man spoke, and died down again when he became silent.
"Well, I don't want to keep you here all afternoon telling you my life story." I assured him I had been deeply interested. "Pretty slick idea of yours, that dummy company, Mr. Paret. Go ahead and organize it." He rose, which was contrary to his custom on the departure of a visitor. "Drop in again. We'll talk about the books."...
I had the Hutchins family on my side, for they had the sense to see that the match would be an advantageous one; I even summoned up enough courage to talk to Ezra Hutchins on the subject. "I'll not attempt to influence Maude, Mr. Paret I've always said I wouldn't interfere with her choice. But as you are a young man of sound habits, sir, successful in your profession, I should raise no objection.
And where was the saving in that? "Say, Paret," said Judah B. when we had finished our labours; "if you ever get sick of the law, I'll give you a job on the Era's staff. This is fine, the way you put it. It'll do a lot of good, but how in hell are you going to handle Judd?...." For three days the inspiration was withheld.
At last we heard the front door shut behind them, and my father came upstairs, his usually serene face wearing a disturbed expression. "Who in the world was it, Mr. Paret?" asked my mother. My father sat down in the arm-chair. He was clearly making an effort for self-control. "Blackwood and Ogilvy and Watling and some city politicians," he exclaimed. "Politicians!" she repeated.
Monahan disappeared, but presently returned to whisper: "Sure, he'll see you," to lead the way through the swinging doors and up a dark stairway. I came suddenly on a room in the greatest disorder, its tables and chairs piled high with newspapers and letters, its windows streaked with soot. From an open door on its farther side issued a voice. "Is that you, Mr. Paret? Come in here."
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