"See Buckley.... He has all the judges under his thumb. Pay him what he
asks. We must have a settlement at once."
Francisco put back the receiver. So Buckley controlled the courts as
well. He would be difficult to expose. The little plan for getting
evidence with Robert's aid did not appear so simple now.
Francisco waited half an hour longer, fidgeting about the office. Then
he decided that Robert had gone for the day and went out. At the corner
of Powell street he bumped rather unceremoniously into a tall figure,
top-hatted, long-coated, carrying a stick.
"I beg your pardon," he apologized. "Oh--why it's Mr. Pickering."
"Where are you bound so--impetuously?"
"Home," smiled Stanley. "Jeanne and I are going to the show tonight." He
was about to pass on when a thought struck him. "Got a minute to spare,
Mr. Pickering?"
"Always to you, my boy," returned the editor of the Bulletin, with his
old-fashioned courtesy.
[Illustration: "My boy ... you're wasting your time as a reporter.
Listen," he laid a hand upon Francisco's knee. "I've a job for you....
The new Mayor will need a secretary."]
"Then, come into the Baldwin Cafe.... I want to tell you something.
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