Without further ado I handed him Mr. Gorse’s letter, and another Mr. Watling had given me for him, which contained a copy of the bill. He read these, laid them on the table, glancing at me again, stroking his goatee the while. He chuckled.
“By gum!” he exclaimed. “I take off my hat to Theodore Watling, always did.” He became contemplative. “It can be done, Mr. Paret, but it’s going to take some careful driving, sir, some reaching out and flicking ’em when they r’ar and buck. Paul Varney’s never been stumped yet. Just as soon as this is introduced we’ll have Gates and Armstrong down here—they’re the Ribblevale attorneys, aren’t they? I thought so,—and the best legal talent they can hire. And they’ll round up all the disgruntled fellows, you know,—that ain’t friendly to the Railroad. We’ve got to do it quick, Mr. Paret. Gorse gave you a letter to the Governor, didn’t he?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Well, come along. I’ll pass the word around among the boys, just to let ’em know what to expect.” His eyes glittered again. “I’ve been following this Ribblevale business,” he added, “and I understand Leonard Dickinson’s all ready to reorganize that company, when the time comes. He ought to let me in for a little, on the ground floor.”
I did not venture to make any promises for Mr. Dickinson.
“I reckon it’s just as well if you were to meet me at the Governor’s office,” the Colonel added reflectively, and the hint was not lost on me. “It’s better not to let ’em find out any sooner than they have to where this thing comes from,—you understand.” He looked at his watch. “How would nine o’clock do? I’ll be there, with Trulease, when you come,—by accident, you understand. Of course he’ll be reasonable, but when they get to be governors they have little notions, you know, and you’ve got to indulge ’em, flatter ’em a little. It doesn’t hurt, for when they get their backs up it only makes more trouble.”
He put on a soft, black felt hat, and departed noiselessly...
At nine o’clock I arrived at the State House and was ushered into a great square room overlooking the park. The Governor was seated at a desk under an elaborate chandelier, and sure enough, Colonel Varney was there beside him; making barely perceptible signals.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Paret,” said Mr. Trulease. “Your name is a familiar one in your city, sir. And I gather from your card that you are associated with my good friend, Theodore Watling.”
I acknowledged it. I was not a little impressed by the perfect blend of cordiality, democratic simplicity and impressiveness Mr. Trulease had achieved. For he had managed, in the course of a long political career, to combine in exact proportions these elements which, in the public mind, should up the personality of a chief executive. Momentarily he overcame the feeling of superiority with which I had entered his presence; neutralized the sense I had of being associated now with the higher powers which had put him where he was. For I knew all about his “record.”