If he had been neglected before, he was not now; all sorts of people came about him with axes to grind.
"Is this Mr. Talcott? Ah, yes! I have heard of your splendid canvass--splendid canvass! Now--ahem!--I'd like you to speak a good word for my girl, for the assistant clerkship of the Ways and Means"; while another wanted his son, Mr. John Smith, for page.
He told them that he had nothing to say about those things. "I am counted with the Democrats, anyhow; I haven't any influence."
They patted him on the shoulder, and winked slyly. "Oh, we know all about that! But every word helps, you know."
Going out at the close of the session, he met Cargill.
"Oh, I don't know; smoothly, I guess. I've kept pretty quiet."
"That's right. The Republicans have everything in their hands this session."
"Hello, Cargill!" called a smooth, jovial voice.
"Ah, Barney! Talcott, this is an excellent opportunity. This is Barney, the great railway lobbyist. Barney, here is a new victim for you--Talcott, of Rock."
Bradley shook hands with moderate enthusiasm, looking into Barney's face with great interest. The lobbyist was large and portly and smiling. His moustache drooped over his mouth, and his chin had a jolly-looking hollow in it. His hazel eyes, once frank and honest, were a little clouded with drink.
"Cargill is an infernal old cynic," he exclaimed, "and he is corporation mad. Don't size us up according to his estimate."
It did not seem possible that this man could be the great tool of the railway interest, and yet that was his reputation.
Cargill moralized on the members, as they walked on: "Barney's on his rounds getting hold of the new members. He scents a corruptible man as the buzzard does carrion. Every session young fellows like you come down here with high and beautiful ideas of office, and start in to reform everything, and end by becoming meat for Barney and his like. There is something destructive in the atmosphere of politics."
Bradley listened to Cargill incredulously. These things could not be true. These groups of jovial, candid-looking men could not be the moral wrecks they were represented. He had expected to see men who looked villainous in some way, with bloated faces--disreputable, beery fellows. He had not risen to the understanding that the successful villain is always plausible.