In spite of his bluster to the state committee he was worried.  He had not felt comfortable since his conference with Judge Ambrose Warren.  He did not like the “feel” of political conditions.  There was some indefinable slipperiness about matters.

He could not bring himself to consider the impossible idea that the convention would bolt—­would run amuck, no matter who addressed it—­no matter what contingency arose.  But to have the convention even tolerate this brazen interloper troubled his sense of mastery; the convention had been too ready to permit the stranger to speak.  It wasn’t politics as the colonel had been accustomed to play the game.  And this—­this man from nowhere—­it was preposterous!

He snapped his head around and found his nephew close behind him.

“You young whelp,” gritted Colonel Dodd, visiting his anger on the nearest object, “where’s your political loyalty?  This isn’t any time to drive bargains.  If you can stop that fellow hustle and do it.”

“It’s another man’s secret, I tell you.  I’ve got to buy it.”

“I’ll make it a thousand.”

Young Dodd’s face was white, but he knew how desperate his case was and how vitally necessary it was to play his cards as he held them.

“I gave you final figures,” he whispered.

“Where is that man?  Let me deal with him.”

“It must be done through me.”

“If you wasn’t my nephew I’d think this was blackmail.”

Young Dodd stepped back to avoid the glare in his uncle’s eyes.

The colonel turned away and listened.  Farr’s voice was raised now in solemn appeal.

“The idea of my letting myself get rattled by a crack-brained demagogue,” muttered the colonel.  He had been fondling the outside of his coat furtively, locating his check-book.  Now he took his hand away.

“It is well to respect service and to show courtesy, gentlemen.  I have listened with interest to the eulogies which have been given Governor Harwood.  He is, without doubt, an amiable gentleman.  But let me tell you that the next legislature is going to be asked to pass a law which will be a club with which the people will rap the knuckles of Greed till that unholy clutch on the water systems of this state will be loosened for ever.”

The delegates stared at him for a few seconds when he paused, and then a tumult of applause greeted his utterance.

“I ask you, gentlemen, whether Governor Harwood—­and you know him well and how he has been chosen—­will ever sign a bill that will take profit from the hands of his political makers even to give that profit to the people who are the rightful owners?”

This time men were silent, but he knew what they thought from the manner in which they looked at him.