"This son of yours; I know as much about him as you
do--more, perhaps, for I have taken more pains to keep tab on him for
the past few years than you have. He is clean and straight, Blount; a
son for any father to be proud of. If that is the real reason why we
don't want to have him instructing the grand juries of this State, it is
also your best reason for wanting to keep the past decently under cover.
What will you say to him when the newspapers open up on you? And what
will he say to you? And suppose you get him in, and we should show you
up so that you'd be dragged into court with your own son for the
prosecutor? How does that strike you?"
For the first time since the opening of the one-sided conference the
senator laid his cigar aside and sat thoughtfully tugging at the
drooping mustaches.
"You'd set the house afire over my head, would you, Hardwick?" he
queried, with the gray eyes lighting up as with a glow of smouldering
embers. "The last time we talked you'll remember that you posted your
'de-fi'; now I'll post mine. You go ahead and do your damnedest! The boy
and I will try to see to it that you don't have all the fun. I won't
say that you mightn't turn him if you went at it right; but you won't go
at it right, and as matters stand now--well, blood is thicker than
water, Hardwick, and if you hit me you hit him.
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