"You'll sooner find a rat down the back of my neck than find Stewart
Morrison inside that State House after the brags he has been making around
this city in the past few hours," declared Tasper, with the breezy freedom
of long friendship with the caller. "He is A Number One in the list of
those who can't get in!"
"But Captain Sweetsir is his mill-student!"
"Captain Sweetsir, in this new importance of his, is leaning so far
backward, in trying to stand straight, that he's scratching the back of
his head on his heels. His own brother is one of our reporters and what
Dan did to Dave when Dave made a holler at the door is a matter of record
on the emergency-hospital blotter. That's straight! Inch of sword-blade.
Not dangerous, but painful!"
All through this interview Lana had maintained the demeanor of one who was
poised on tiptoes, ready to run. She gathered her coat's broad collar more
tightly in its clasp of her throat, and started for the door. But she
whirled and ran back to Tasper.
"You say that Stewart Morrison is no politician! But I noticed the queer
flash in your eyes, Billy Tasper! Do you think he is a coward and has run
away?"
"Tut, tut! Not so strong!" The newspaper man put up a protesting palm.
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