"
The young man got up and groped for the hat which had fallen from his
hands to the floor and rolled away out of reach.
"You mean that I'm to get my time-check?" he asked.
"No," he grated--the harshness returning suddenly. "You are disloyal,
and I know it; your successor would probably be the same, and I
shouldn't know it."
Nerved to the strident pitch now by the new resolution, Blount hurriedly
set his desk in order, slammed it shut, and followed the stenographer to
the street level. In the avenue he hesitated for a moment, the thoughts
shuttling swiftly. In a flash the inferences fell into place. Gantry had
said that his father was responsible for the time-killing journey to
Lewiston. Why had it been necessary? Was it to keep him out of Gryson's
way? What did the ward-organizer have to communicate that made him so
anxious to secure an interview? Was that anxiety the breach through
which the wider field of corruption might be reached?
Again swift decision came to its own and Blount faced to the right,
walking rapidly until he turned in at the foot of the worn double flight
of stairs leading to the editorial rooms of _The Plainsman_. Blenkinsop,
the editor, a lean, haggard man with a sallow face, coarse black hair
worn always a little longer than the prevailing cut, and deep-set,
gloomy eyes, was at his desk.
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