The chief of police had distributed his officers to posts of duty and was patrolling the rotunda.

He saluted the mayor when Morrison came hurrying in through the main entrance.

"All is fine, Chief! I thank you for your work. I don't look for anything out of the way, after this. But keep your men on till further orders."

At the foot of the grand stairway Stewart's self-possession left him.

Lana Corson was standing half-way up the stairs. Her furs were thrown back, revealing her festival attire. Her beauty was heightened by the flush on her cheeks and by the vivid animation in her luminous eyes.

He paused for a moment, his gaze meeting hers, and then he hastened to her.

"How did it happen—that you're here, Lana?"

"I'm here—let that be an answer for now. But this, Stewart—this what I have been seeing and hearing! Does it mean what it seems to mean?"

"I'll have to admit that I don't know exactly how it does show up from the side-lines. Suppose you say!"

"I heard you talk to General Totten. I heard you talk to that mob. I saw what you did. But I heard you give all the credit to my father." She searched Stewart's face with more earnest stare. "You have saved the state from disgracing itself, haven't you? Isn't that what you have done—you yourself?"

"Oh, nonsense! Tell me! How did you get in and who came with you?"

"I'm here alone, Stewart, and it's of no importance how I got in. The question I have asked you is the important one just now."

Her insistence was disconcerting; he had not recovered from the astonishment of the sudden meeting; he felt that he ought to lie to that daughter, in the interests of her family pride, but he was conscious of his inability to lie glibly just then.

"Where is your car?"

"Waiting for me in the little park."

"Lana, there'll be no more excitement here—not a bit. Nothing to see!
Suppose you allow me to take you to the car. Come!" He put out his arm.

"Certainly not! Not till I see my father! He is in danger!"

"I assure you he is not. I left him with the Governor only a few minutes ago, and the Senator was never better in his life—nor safer!" In spite of his best endeavor to be consolatory and matter-of-fact he was not able to keep a certain significance out of his tone.

From where she stood she could look across the rotunda and down into the square. The glare of the lights made all movements visible. The crowd was melting away.

"Stewart, brains and tact have accomplished wonders here to-night. I want to know all the truth. Why shouldn't you be as candid to me as you seemed to be with those men when you were talking to them? I want to give my gratitude to somebody! The name of our good state has been kept clean. You're not fair to me if you leave me in the dark any longer."

"I did my little bit, that's all! I'm only one of the cogs!"

"I know how I'll make you tell. I propose to give you all the credit. And
I never knew you to keep anything that didn't belong to you."

"Now you're not fair yourself, Lana! We just put our heads together—the whole of us—that's all! Put our heads together! You know! As men will!" His stammering eagerness did not satisfy her feminine penetration. Her daughterly interest in the Senator's political standing was stirred as she reflected.

"My father is down here to see that his fences are in good shape," she declared, with true Washington sapience. "I think it was his duty and privilege to step out there and make the speech. I'm surprised because he let such an opportunity slip. With all due respect to the mayor of Marion, you were not at all dignified, Stewart. They laughed at you—and I didn't blame them!"

"I can't blame 'em, either," he confessed. "I—I—I guess I lost my head. I'm not used to making speeches. I have made two since supper, and both of 'em have seemed to stir up a lot of trouble for me."

"I think, myself, that you're rather unfortunate as a speechmaker," she returned, dryly. "I suppose you're going back to report to father. I'll go with you." In her manner there was implied promise that she would proceed to learn more definitely in what quarters her especial gratitude ought to be expended.

"Lana," he urged, "I wish you'd go home and wait for your talk with your father when he comes. He'll be coming right along. I'll see that he does. There's nothing—not much of anything to keep him here. But I need to have a little private confab with him."

"So private that I mustn't listen? I hope that we're still old friends, Stewart, you and I, though your attitude in regard to father's affairs has made all else between us impossible."

He did not pursue the topic she had broached. There was a certain finality about her deliverance of the statement, a decisiveness that afforded no hint that she would consider any compromise or reconsideration. His face was very grave. "I have a little business—a few loose ends to take up with the Senator. Once more I beg that you will defer—"

"I will go with you to the Executive Chamber. I'll be grateful for your escort. If you don't care to have me go along with you, I can easily find my way there alone."

Her manner left no opportunity for further appeal.

He bowed. He did not offer his arm. They walked together up the stairway. With side-glances she surveyed his countenance wonderingly; in his expression true distress was mingled with apprehensiveness. He had the air of an unwilling guide detailed to conduct an unsuspecting innocent to be shocked by the revelations of a chamber of horrors; she put it that way to herself in jesting hyperbole.

The newspaper men, who had followed Mayor Morrison into the State House, had been holding aloof, politely, from a conference which seemed to have no bearing on the political situation. They hurried behind and overtook Stewart and the young lady at the head of the stairway; their spokesman asked for a statement.

"I made it! Out there a few minutes ago! Boys, you heard what I said, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Well, I talked more than I intended to! Boil it down to a few lines and let it go at that!"

"We want to get the matter just right, Mister Mayor, and give credit where it's due."

"I covered the matter of credit. There's nothing more to say," replied
Stewart, curtly.

The reporters surveyed him with considerable wonderment; his manner in times past had always been distinguished by frank graciousness.

"We'd like to see Senator Corson and Governor North."

That request seemed to provoke the mayor's irritability still more. "I'm not the guardian of those gentlemen or of this State House!" He turned on his heel abruptly. "Miss Corson!" She was waiting a few paces away. He rejoined her and by a gesture invited her to walk along. "I'm sorry! I did not mean to delay you!"

The newspaper men followed on as far as the door of the Executive Chamber.

Morrison faced them there. "I don't mean to interfere with you, boys, in any way. And you mustn't interfere with me. As soon as the Senator and the Governor finish with me they'll give you all the time you want, no doubt! Please wait outside!" He tapped on the door and gave his name. Rellihan opened. Morrison seized the officer's arm and pulled him outside. "Keep everybody away from the door for a few moments—till further orders."

Stewart escorted Miss Corson into the chamber with almost as much celerity as he had employed in escorting Rellihan out; and he promptly banged the door. He walked slowly across the room toward the big table, following Lana, who hastened toward her father. The Senator was standing behind the table, flanked by North and Daunt. The three of them formed a portentous battery. Morrison did not speak. His expression indicated humility. He drooped his shoulders. There was appeal in his eyes. "Here I am!" the eyes informed the glowering Senator. But a side-glance hinted: "Here is your daughter, too. Use judgment!"

Lana was manifestly perplexed by what she saw. Three distinguished gentlemen were presenting the visages of masculine Furies. She looked away from them and received a little comfort from the placid countenances of Andrew Mac Tavish and Delora Bunker, but their presence in that place and at that hour only made her mystification more complete.

She had been allowing her imagination to paint pictures before she stepped into the Executive Chamber; she had expected to find her father virtuously triumphant, serenely a successful molder of pacific plans. His scowl was so forbidding that she stopped short.

"Father, it's wonderful—perfectly wonderful, isn't it?" She tried to speak joyously, but she faltered. "I saw it all! I saw how your plan succeeded."

"Damn you, Morrison! What has happened?" The Senator did not merely demand—he exploded.

The silence which followed became oppressive. Miss Corson was too thoroughly horrified to proceed. Apparently Governor North and Daunt had selected their spokesman and had nothing to say for themselves. Morrison seemed to be especially helpless as an informant; he wagged his head and pointed to Lana.

"Answer my question, Morrison!"

"I think Miss Corson better tell you, sir. She was an impartial observer."

"Perhaps she had better tell me! You're right! After this night I wouldn't take your word as to the wetness of water. Lana, speak out!"

"I don't know what I can tell you—you have been right here all the time in the State House—"

The Senator jammed a retort between the links of her stammering speech.
"Yes, I have been right here! What has happened below, I ask you?"

"Why, the troops marched out. They went away! Right through the mob! And it's all calm and quiet."

Governor North stamped his way a half-dozen paces to the rear, and whirled and marched back into line.

"Morrison, have you—have you—" Senator Corson choked. Not knowing exactly what to say, he shook his fist.

"Father, what's the matter? It was only carrying out your orders."

"Orders—my orders?"

"Stewart Morrison, why don't you say something?" she demanded.

"I'm sure your father prefers to hear from you."

"Confound it! I do want to hear, and hear immediately!"

Lana displayed some of the paternal ire. "Stewart, I asked you to be candid with me. You're leaving me to flounder around disgracefully in this matter."

The Senator advanced on his daughter and seized her arm. "I don't want that renegade to say another word to me as long as I live—and he knows it. I'll tell you later what has been going on here. But now tell me to what orders of mine you are referring! Quick and short!"

"Mayor Morrison made a little speech to the mob and said that you thought it was best to send away the troops to prevent bad feelings and misunderstanding, and said you were backed up by the Governor."

The Senator swapped looks with the goggling North over Lana's head.

"And the mob has gone home, and the State House is thrown wide open, and the policemen are on duty, and I say again that it's wonderful," insisted the girl.

"Morrison, did you say that? Have you done that?"

Stewart was fully aware that he had allowed the men in the square to draw an inference from a compliment that he had paid to Senator Corson's sagacity, and had refrained from making a direct declaration. But he was not minded to embarrass the girl any further. He bowed. "I thank Miss Corson for giving the gist of the thing so neatly."

"I know I don't understand it all yet, father!" Lana was both frightened and wistful. The Senator had turned from her and was striding to and fro, scuffing his feet hard on the carpet. "If you're blaming Mayor Morrison for revealing confidences, I'm sorry. But you can't help being proud when it is spread abroad how your handling of the dreadful affair prevented bloodshed and shame in this state."

"Spread abroad!" Senator Corson brought down his feet more violently.

The situation, if it remained bottled up there in the Executive Chamber any longer, threatened to explode in still more damaging fashion, was Stewart's uncomfortable thought. The Senator's remark suggested a diversion in the way of topics, at any rate.

"That reminds me that the newspaper boys are waiting outside in the corridor, Senator Corson. I asked them to be patient for a few minutes. Please allow me to say that I have added no statement to what I said to the crowd in the square. I shall not add any."

"I don't see how you could add anything!" retorted the Senator with venom.

He continued his promenade.

Again the silence in the room became oppressive.

Morrison was scrutinizing Governor North with especial intentness.

His Excellency was giving unmistakable evidence that he was surcharged. He was working his elbows and was whispering to himself with a fizzling sound. He had turned his back on Lana Corson as if he were resolved to ignore the fact of her presence.

Stewart, exhibiting deference while a United States Senator was pondering, strolled leisurely across the room to North and fondled the lapel of the Governor's coat. "I beg your pardon, and I hope you'll excuse curiosity in a chap who makes cloth, Governor. But this is as fine a piece of worsted as I've seen in many a day."

North lifted his arm as if to knock the presumptuous hand away; but Stewart slowly clenched his fist, holding the fabric in his close clutch, exerting a strength that dominated the man upon whom his hold was fastened. The mayor went on in an undertone, as if anxious to show additional deference in the presence of the senatorial ponderings. "Governor, petty politics haven't been allowed to make a bad mess of what has been turned into an open proposition. Now don't allow your tongue to make a mess of this new development as it stands right now. Humor Miss Corson's notions! And let me tell you! My policemen are going to stay on the job until after the legislature assembles."

"Morrison, you're a coward!" grated North. "You brought Corson's girl here so that you can sneak behind her petticoats."

Stewart released his hold, clapped His Excellency on the shoulder, raised his voice, and cried, heartily:

"Thank you. Governor! You're right. You have an excellent idea of a piece of goods, yourself."

Senator Corson arrived at a decision which he did not confide to anybody. He spoke to Daunt and the two of them went to the divan and dragged on the overcoats which they had discarded when Rellihan's obstinacy had been found to be unassailable.

Lana, studying the faces of the men, drew her furs about her.

"The car is waiting near the west portico, father," she ventured to say.

Corson took his time about buttoning his coat. Lana had her heritage of dark eyes from her father; his wrath had settled into cold malevolence and his eyes above his white cheeks were not pleasant objects. He surveyed the various persons in the room. He took his time in that process, too!

"For the present—for now—for to-night," he said, quietly, elaborating his mention of the moment with significance, "we seem to have cleaned up all the business before us. In view of that interregnum, Governor, of which you have been so kindly reminded, I suppose you feel that you can go to your hotel and rest for the remainder of the night so as to be in good trim for the inaugural ceremonies. Allow me to offer you a lift in my car."

The Governor trudged toward, a massive wardrobe in a corner of the chamber.

"I do not presume to offer you the convenience of my car, Mayor Morrison," the Senator went on.

"I take it that your recent oath as supreme Executive during the aforesaid interregnum obliges you to stay on the job. Ah—er—do we require a countersign in order to get out of the building?"

The mayor was walking toward the private door. "No, sir!" he said, mildly.

"I hope you hear that, Governor North! I was compelled to give countersigns to your soldiers—quite emphatic countersigns. The new regime is to be complimented."

Morrison threw open the door. "That's all, Rellihan! Report to the chief!"

The newspaper men came crowding to the threshold.

"You have interviewed Mayor Morrison on the situation, haven't you?" demanded the Senator, breaking in on their questions.

"Yes!"

"To-night—for the time being—for now," returned Corson, dwelling on the point as emphatically as he had when he spoke before, "Mayor Morrison seems to be doing very well in all that has been undertaken. I have no statement to make—absolutely no word to say!"

He stepped back and allowed the Governor to lead the retreat; His Excellency collided with two of the more persistent news-gatherers. With volleyed "No! Nothing!" he marked time for the thudding of his feet.

Apparently Lana had entered into the spirit of that armed truce which, so her father's manner informed her, was merely a rearrangement of the battle-front. She hurried out of the chamber without even a glance in Morrison's direction.

Stewart's grim countenance intimidated the reporters; they went away.

For a long time the mayor paced up and down the Executive Chamber, his hands clasped behind him.

Miss Bunker thumbed the leaves of her note-book, putting on an air of complete absorption in that matter.

Mac Tavish studied the mayor's face; Morrison was wearing that expression which indicated a mood strange for him. Mac Tavish had seen it on the master's face altogether too many times since the Morrison had come from the mill in the forenoon. It was not the look he wore when matters of business engrossed him. The old paymaster liked to see Morrison pondering on mill affairs; it was meditation that always meant solution of difficulties, and the solution was instantly followed by a laugh and good cheer.

But it was plain that Morrison had not solved anything when he turned to
Mac Tavish.

"Not much like honest, real business—this, eh, Andy?"

"Naething like, sir!"

"Doesn't seem to be a polite job, either—politics—if you go in and fight the other fellow on his own ground."

"I've e'er hated the sculch and the scalawags!"

"Totten calls this a political exigency."

"I'll no name it for mysel' in the hearing o' the lass!"

"Seems to need a lot of fancy lying when a greenhorn like me starts late and is obliged to do things in a hurry. Gives business methods an awful wrench, Andy!"

"Aye!" The old Scotchman was emphatic.

"In fact, in a political exigency, according to what I've found out this evening, the quickest liar wins!" He walked to Miss Bunker's side. "You might jot that down as sort of summing the thing up and consider the record closed."

"Do ye think it's all closed and that ye're weel out of it?" inquired Mac
Tavish, anxiously.

"I think, Andy," drawled the mayor, a wry smile beginning to twist at the corners of his mouth, "that I may have the militia and the people and the politicians well out of it, but considering the mess, as it concerns me, myself, I'm only beginning to be good and properly in it."

"Ye hae the record, as jotted by the lass, and I heard ye say naething but what was to your credit. And the words o' the high judges! Ye're well backed!"

"Oh, that reminds me, Andy. That boy who brought the telegrams to the door! He'll come to the mill in the morning. Pay him ten dollars. I didn't have the money in my clothes when I hired him."

"And that reminds me, too, Mr. Morrison!" said Miss Bunker. "Do you want me to keep the telegrams with the record? You remember you took them when you went out with the general."

Morrison reached into his breast pocket for the papers, tore them slowly across, and stuffed the scraps back into a side-pocket. "I reckon they won't do the record much good. It's more of the political exigency stuff, Andy! I wrote 'em myself!"

His hands had touched his pipe when he had shoved the bits of paper into his pocket. He took it out and peered into the bowl. There was tobacco there and he fumbled for a match.

"Andy, usually I like to have morning come, for there's always business waiting for me in the mornings and honest daylight helps any matter of clean business. But I'm not looking ahead to this next sunrise with a great deal of relish. Those telegrams were clinchers in the case of Totten, but I don't know what the judges will say. What I said about Senator Corson to the mob helped a lot—but I don't know what the Senator is going to say in the morning. And I don't know what Governor North proposes to say. Or what—" He checked himself and shook his head. "Well, there's considerable going to be said, at any rate! I'll run over the thing in my mind right now while I have time and everything is quiet. Mac Tavish, take Miss Bunker to the car and tell Jock to carry you and her home and to come back here for me."

After they had gone he lighted his pipe and sat down in the Governor's big chair and smoked and pondered. Every little while he thrust his forefinger and thumb into his vest pocket and ransacked without avail. "I must have left it in my dress clothes," he muttered. "But no matter! I'm not in the right frame of mind to enjoy poetry. However, merely in the way of taking a new clinch on the proposition I do remember this much, 'But I will marry my own first love!' There's truth in poetry if you go after it hard enough. And, on second thought, I'd better keep my mind on poetry as closely as I can! I certainly don't dare to think of politics right now!"