"Abbott," Enoch's voice was very low, "John Fowler, the Secretary of
State, always will laugh at it."
"Why?" asked Charley.
"I don't know," replied Enoch.
The two men stared at each other for a long moment. Then Abbott said,
"I've known for a long time that he was jealous of you, politically.
Also he may own Mexican oil stock or he may merely wish to have the
political backing of the Brown newspapers."
"Can you think of any method of persuading him that I am not a
political rival, that I merely want to go to the Senate, when I have
finished here?" asked Enoch earnestly.
Abbott shook his head, "He might be convinced that you want to be a
Senator. But he's a clever man. And even a fool knows that you are
America's man on horseback." Charley's voice rose a little. "Why,
even in this rotten, cynical city of Washington, they believe in you,
they feel that you are the man of destiny. Mr. Fowler is just clever
enough to be jealous of you."
A look of sadness came into Enoch's keen gaze. "I wonder if the game
is worth it, after all," murmured he. "Abbott, I'd swap it all for--"
he stopped abruptly, looked broodingly out of the window, then said,
"Charley, my boy, why are you going into political life?"
The younger man's eyes deepened and he cleared his throat.
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