He recalled the report of his private detective and the incident of
Ogilvy's visit to young Henry Poundstone's office with a small
leather bag; he was more than ever convinced that this bag had
contained the bribe, in gold coin, which had been productive of that
temporary franchise and the verbal understanding for its possible
extension.

"Ogilvy did business with you through your son Henry," he challenged.
Poundstone started violently. "How much did Henry get out of it?"
Pennington continued brutally.

"Two hundred and fifty dollars retainer, and not a cent more,"
Poundstone protested virtuously--and truthfully.

"You're not so good a business man as I gave you credit for being,"
the Colonel retorted mirthfully "Two hundred and fifty dollars! Oh,
Lord! Poundstone, you're funny. Upon my word, you're a scream." And
the Colonel gave himself up to a sincerely hearty laugh. "You call it
a retainer," he continued presently, "but a grand jury might call it
something else. However," he went on after a slight pause, "you're
not in politics for your health; so let's get down to brass tacks.
How much do you want to deny the N.C.O. not only an extension of that
temporary franchise but also a permanent franchise when they apply
for it?"

Poundstone rose with great dignity. "Colonel Pennington, sir," he
said, "you insult me."

"Sit down. You've been insulted that way before now. Shall we say one
thousand dollars per each for your three good councilmen and true,