It was at the City Hall that Davy Hull sought him, and found him.
Twice he walked briskly to the boss; the third time he went by
slowly. Kelly, who saw everything, had known from the first
glance at Hull's grave, anxious face, that the young leader of
the ``holy boys'' was there to see him. But he ignored Davy
until Davy addressed him directly.
``Howdy, Mr. Hull!'' said he, observing the young man with eyes
that twinkled cynically. ``What's the good word?''
``I want to have a little talk with you,'' Davy blurted out.
``Where could I see you?''
``Here I am,'' said Kelly. ``Talk away.''
``Couldn't I see you at some--some place where we'd not be
interrupted? I saw Victor Dorn yesterday, and he said some
things that I think you ought to know about.''
``I do know about 'em,'' replied Kelly.
``Are you sure? I mean his threats to--to----''
As Davy paused in an embarrassed search for a word that would not
hurt his own but recently soothed conscience, Kelly laughed.
``To expose you holy boys?'' inquired he. ``To upset the nice
moral campaign you and Joe House have laid out? Yes, I know all
about Mr. Victor Dorn. But--Joe House is the man you want to
see. You boys are trying to do me up--trying to break up the
party. You can't expect ME to help you. I've got great respect
for you personally, Mr. Hull. Your father--he was a fine old
Republican wheel-horse. He stood by the party through thick and
thin--and the party stood by him.
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