him. Nothing--except the withdrawal on the very morning of the election.
That would look bad, but he could pretend illness, and he had told the
Professor he didn't care to be Mayor; he had advised him not to mix in
the struggle; besides, Roberts would not suspect anything, and if he did
there'd be no shadow of proof for a long time to come. In the other
scale of the balance he had Gulmore's promise: it was trustworthy, he
knew, but--:

"Do you mean that you'll run me for the next term and get me elected?"

"I'll do all I know, and I guess you'll succeed."

"I have nothing but your word."

"Nothin'."

Again Mr. Hutchings paused. To accept definitively would be dangerous if
the conversation had had listeners. It was characteristic of the place
and time that he could suspect a man of laying such a trap, upon whose
word he was prepared to rely. Mr. Gulmore saw and understood his
hesitation:

"I said we were alone, Hutchin's, and I meant it. Jest as I say now, if
you withdraw and tell no one and be guided by me in becoming a
Republican, I'll do what I ken to get you into Congress," and as he
spoke he stood up.

Mr. Hutchings rose, too, and said, as if in excuse: "I wanted to think
it over, but I'm agreed. I'll do as you say," and with a hurried "Good
night!" he left the room.