In the prosecutor's office, to which they had access at all hours of the day, were Mixley and McGrath, the latter occupying a strategic position, in that he held in his hand the latest edition of the Morning Mail.

"How's the joint ballot?" called Mixley from across the room.

"Oh, it's hot, I tell you—both houses up all night!" returned the other from over his paper. "The hands of the clock moved back about ten times, and still going it. Still in session."

Again Mixley called:—

"Let's see the extra!"

McGrath tossed it over to him. Across its face, in huge letters, appeared the single significant word:

"Oh, but it's Murgatroyd that gives them the fight!" exclaimed Mixley, with enthusiasm.

McGrath smiled.

"Sure," he answered. "He's holdin' 'em, but that's all he's doin'. But what of that? He's got nothin' to hold 'em on. Why, everybody knows that he hasn't any money. It's my opinion," declared McGrath, "that the job goes to Thorne!"

Mixley read the first page of the Morning Mail with care. After a while he read:—

"I guess you're right. Thorne will be the next Senator, all right. Hang the luck!"

"How can it be helped?" reasoned McGrath. "Look at them brewers putting up maybe a quarter of a million to help Thorne out! I say, what do you think the votes of the 'wise' assemblymen were quoted at—on the market last night?"

"I don't know. I wish I was an assemblyman at that," sighed Mixley.

"Twenty-five thousand dollars apiece, and a rising market growing stronger every minute," answered McGrath. "And them brewers'll pay it, too. One fellow wanted fifty thousand—an' he'll get it—see if he don't."

"I wish I was an assemblyman," repeated Mixley wistfully.

"If you were, and there was Thorne and twenty-five thousand on one side for you, and Murgatroyd without a dollar on the other, who would you vote for? Come, now, answer!"

Mixley waved his hand.

"You'd vote for Murgatroyd," yelled McGrath, "you know you would—you couldn't help yourself."

Mixley sighed again.

"But I ain't an assemblyman," he answered; and in the next breath he added: "There's somebody at that there door."

McGrath crossed to the door and opened it; and Challoner, Mrs. Challoner and Shirley Bloodgood entered.

McGrath, who remembered them well, and who knew Challoner especially well since the hospital investigation, bowed low, and announced that the prosecutor was out.

Shirley stepped forward and said determinedly:—

"But we must see him."

"He's expected any moment," said Mixley from across the room.

"We'll wait," chorused the three visitors.

McGrath bowed again and went back to his seat near the window.

Presently Miriam turned to Shirley, and said regretfully:—

"You ought not to have come, Shirley. Perhaps you had better not stay."

Shirley looked narrowly at Challoner and at his wife. After a moment she inquired:—

"Don't you want me to stay?"

"Yes, yes, of course we do," Miriam assured her, "but you don't want to stay, do you?"

"Indeed I do," was the girl's quick answer.

"What good will it do," sighed Miriam; but, nevertheless, she found herself clinging to the girl as she did in every crisis when Shirley happened to be on hand.

"Do you suppose I'd miss being in at the death?" said Shirley after a moment.

"At the death?"

"Yes, I could see him hanged, drawn and quartered!" she exclaimed, with mock ferociousness.

Meanwhile, Mixley and McGrath were still holding their desultory conversation upon the situation of the day.

"They said," Mixley remarked to the other, "that the chief was politically dead after he had blackjacked the organisation; maybe he was—maybe he is, but he fights all right."

"He certainly cleaned things up," admitted McGrath, feeling of his biceps. "We helped him, eh?"

"He didn't do a thing to Cradlebaugh's," mused Mixley.

"Nor to the machine," smiled McGrath.

"Well, anyhow," said Mixley, "if he hasn't got the machine and the brewers and the twenty-five-thousand-dollar assemblymen back of him, he's got the people, all right. They know he's honest."

"Oh, yes, he's honest, and they know it," assented the other. "But hang it! The people can't get him into the Senate. It takes more than the people—it takes good money to do that. At least," he added emphatically, "it always has, up to date."

Mixley shook his head.

"If he only had half a million behind him now...."

The other snorted.

"It's well he hasn't—well he never had. If he had half a million, he wouldn't be running for United States Senator! Just like as not, he'd be playin' golf or running a devil wagon."

"Gee, what a scorcher he'd be!"

"And he'd be so loaded with golf medals," added the other, "that he couldn't walk."

"Well, it's a man's fight he's got on hand, now, and no mistake—and with nothing but his honesty to back him."

The three visitors had been listeners to this conversation in silence; but Shirley could contain herself no longer; and turning to her companions, she said sneeringly:—

"Nothing but his honesty to back him! Why, lynching's too good for him!"

And as though her utterance of the phrase were the prosecutor's cue, Murgatroyd sauntered into the room. He looked as fresh and unconcerned as though he did not know that a bloodless battle was being fought for him down at the State Capitol—a close battle, at that.

Challoner rose at once, and said nervously:—

"Billy, I——"

At the sound of his name, Murgatroyd turned. He had not seen them sitting there, and now bowed impersonally to all three.

"Want to see me?" he inquired suavely.

"Yes," faltered Challoner; and with a quick glance in the direction of the prosecutor's men, he added: "and alone, please."

Murgatroyd turned to his men and queried:—

"Anything new?"

Mixley pointed to the Morning Mail and to an unopened telegram upon the desk.

"That, from the assembly," he returned.

Murgatroyd shook his head, saying:—

"No, I don't mean that. I mean in the Tannenbaum case."

McGrath gasped.

"Gee!" he exclaimed, "we was so excited about this here that we clean forgot about it."

Murgatroyd took from his drawer a bundle of papers and handed it to Mixley, saying:—

"Look up that excise violation—right away. And, McGrath," he continued, "there are three witnesses in the Tannenbaum case that we've got to have. It's up to you to get them. If you can't find them by two o'clock, let me know. You may go."

And now seating himself at his desk Murgatroyd turned to Challoner with:—

"Well, Challoner, what can I do for you?"

Challoner advanced quickly toward the desk.

"Prosecutor Murgatroyd," he began, gulping, "it's up to you to clear me of that Hargraves affair. I'm not the murderer of Hargraves!"

Miriam and Shirley had risen, but they did not move; they hung upon the prosecutor's answer.

Murgatroyd leaned back in his chair, and returned calmly:—

"I know it."

"You know it?" gasped the three visitors; and the next moment the women were grouped around the prosecutor's desk.

Murgatroyd proceeded to open his mail.

"Yes," he mused, "I have known it for almost five years—you must have known it, too."

"Not until a few hours ago," Challoner quickly informed him.

"You don't say so," was Murgatroyd's answer; and presently he added: "though perhaps it is not so very surprising."

Challoner's eyes narrowed; his pulse was beating fast. Suddenly he said:—

"But somebody killed Hargraves—who did it?"

The prosecutor looked at the man incredulously.

"Do you mean to tell me, that though you know now that you didn't kill Hargraves—that you don't know who did kill him?"

"I'm here to find out," was Challoner's determined answer.

"Why thunderation!" ejaculated Murgatroyd; and looking the other squarely in the eyes, went on: "I knew that everybody didn't know, but I thought you knew long ago that it was Pemmican of Cradlebaugh's who did it."

"Pemmican," repeated Challoner, as if to himself, "was the only man who knew, and he's dead."

"Yes," assented Murgatroyd, "he killed himself in jail. He confessed just before the Court of Appeals filed its opinion of affirmance in your case. It was a game on his part, that murder. He had stolen ten thousand dollars from the management of Cradlebaugh's, and had been threatened with prosecution for it. It was necessary for him to replace the money. The opportunity came and he seized it. He knew that there was bad blood between you and Hargraves; knew that there was a motive on your part; knew that you shot and missed; knew that Hargraves had a lot of money on his person, and he set out to get it. It was safe—he got it, and Hargraves, too—shot him dead with another gun,—after you missed him,—and paid back the money to Cradlebaugh's."

Miriam could not restrain herself, and burst out:—

"And you have known this for years?"

"Yes," he told her quietly, his eyes wandering over Miriam's face; "but it's plain to me now that you haven't known it."

"How should we?" protested Challoner.

Murgatroyd frowned, then he answered:—

"How? Because I advised your counsel, Thorne, and he was present when the order releasing you was signed. It was his duty, not mine, to communicate with you. I represented the people; he was the counsel for the defence."

"Thorne—Thorne knew...." cried Miriam.

"Yes, Thorne knew...." admitted Murgatroyd.

"... and he never told us," came finally from Challoner's lips.

"Possibly he didn't dare," explained Murgatroyd, with an enigmatical smile. "Just at that time, Thorne and Thorne's crowd held the public in the hollow of their hands. So perhaps," he added sarcastically, "the news about Pemmican was suppressed for the public good."

"And you—" spoke up Shirley, her eyes flashing, but got no further, for Murgatroyd went on addressing Challoner.

"I had no trouble, then, of course, in setting you free."

Challoner blinked stupidly at the prosecutor, but Miriam's face at once was wreathed in smiles; for she knew that their future happiness was assured—that the name of Challoner would be cleared of its stain.

But Shirley was not yet satisfied. And her eyes were blazing as she exclaimed hotly:—

"It was not you who set him free! The law set him free! He was innocent, and——" She paused and drew a deep breath before going on: "You took a million dollars to set him free!"

Murgatroyd rose suddenly, and turning to Mrs. Challoner, he said with great earnestness:—

"This is the second time this charge has been made against me: once at the trial, and again here. You understand the nature of this charge?" he asked Shirley, looking her full in the eyes. "What proofs have you?"

Shirley pointed to Challoner's wife, and answered:—

"Mrs. Challoner is my proof."

Murgatroyd turned his gaze now on Miriam, whose expression of joy had not changed, and asked:—

"Mrs. Challoner, do you renew this charge?"

But before Mrs. Challoner could answer, Shirley broke in with:—

"Prosecutor Murgatroyd, a moment please!" And on the prosecutor's turning his gaze on her, she continued: "You know I am speaking the truth! Mrs. Challoner has tried to convince me that this bribe was not a crime, inasmuch as you had kept faith with her; but she knows as well as you do what my opinion is on the subject. I told you in the court-room what I thought, and again on another occasion—I have not changed. No, you are not honest," she concluded, mercilessly; "you've stolen, you're a——"

She balked at the word; the next moment there came a loud knock upon the door.

"Come in!" called Murgatroyd.

"Sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Prosecutor," said Mixley, on entering, "but Mr. Thorne is outside——"

Murgatroyd shook his head.

"Tell Mr. Thorne I'm busy."

But no sooner had Mixley left the room than he was back again.

"Counsellor Thorne says that he must see you—he won't wait."

The prosecutor ordered his man to keep him out, ending with:—

"I can't see him!"

On Mixley's retreating, Shirley once more stepped forward, and her lips were parted to speak when suddenly the door was thrust open violently and Thorne stalked in. Behind him came Mixley, trying to hold him back; but the other jerked himself free, and on reaching the prosecutor's desk, he held out his hand, and called out loudly:—

"SENATOR MURGATROYD!"

"W-what!" exclaimed Murgatroyd, rising.

"I want to shake hands with you. Then I'm the first to announce it? Good!"

And he proceeded to tell Murgatroyd that the latter had just been chosen on joint ballot, majority in both houses, for the Senatorship, ending with:—

"Allow me—allow me to congratulate you!"

His voice rang true, even though he did not mean it; and Murgatroyd shook his hand, saying:—

"I thought it would be you, Thorne; you put up a good fight."

"We did, you mean," protested Thorne. "My crowd did, as usual. But you, Murgatroyd, deserve your honours—it was one man against the field, one man against illimitable backing. Senator," he declared, bowing, "I take off my hat to you! You have done what has never been done before, and you've done it without a dollar! You're the first man in the State," he went on frankly, "to be chosen by the people, literally by the people, and without a dollar behind you."

Still Murgatroyd shook his head, and repeated:—

"Thorne, it looked like you."

"No; and we've learned something by all this," Thorne went on; "we're beginning to find out that the people worship honesty above all things.—Oh, yes, I'm honest," he continued hastily; "I understand that. But you—your honesty is the real thing—and the people know it, too."

Turning to her friends, Shirley muttered satirically:—

"Honest!"

Now McGrath, as usual, had followed close on the footsteps of Mixley; and standing in the door, he yelled:—

"Three cheers for Senator Murgatroyd!"

And Mixley and Thorne,—born and bred to political meetings,—gave them with a will; while Shirley and the Challoners sat in the corner in deep silence.

Murgatroyd looked at his men in surprise.

"Where have you been all this time?" he queried.

"Outside," they answered sheepishly, "waiting for the news."

Murgatroyd strode down upon them and thundered out:—

"You get that evidence and have it here by two o'clock."

The men piled out in confusion. A moment later, Thorne took up his hat, and holding out his hand, repeated:—

"Accept my congratulations once more, Senator!" He turned to go, and then for the first time he saw the three people huddled together in the corner of the room. "Well," he suddenly exclaimed, "I thought we were alone. I didn't know...."

Challoner stepped out in front of him, and blurted out:—

"Mr. Thorne, I wish to know if it is true——"

Thorne, still not seeing who it was, nodded.

"Yes," he said in reply, "the prosecutor has been chosen—I'm down and out."

"You don't understand," returned Challoner; "is it true, true——"

"True?" repeated Thorne.

"True that you have known all these years that I was innocent of murder?" And Challoner squared his shoulders and lifted his head while he waited for his reply.

"Yes, of course it's true," answered Thorne, seeing, at last, whom he faced.

"You never told me," fiercely returned Challoner. Thorne apparently was dumbfounded.

"Never told you? Why I must have told you," he stammered feebly.

"You never—" Challoner's voice suddenly broke. "And I thought all these years—and because I thought——"

He paused abruptly. Then Thorne, turning to Murgatroyd, boldly equivocated:

"It's preposterous! Of course I told him...."

Murgatroyd smiled grimly, and added gently to himself:—

"Never ... 'till now."

Thorne now waved Challoner aside, saying:—

"You must be mistaken, Mr. Challoner; I certainly told you—" And picking up his hat, once more turned his attention to the prosecutor.

"Well, Senator, good-day!" At the door, he called back: "You've made a clean and honest fight—you deserve success! Good-day!"

But no sooner had the words passed his lips, than Shirley, almost beside herself, again broke forth:—

"A clean, honest fight! Oh!"

Murgatroyd resumed his seat, smiling. "Yes," he said, as if wholly unconscious of the girl's irony, "it is hard work to be chosen Senator without half a million or so behind you."

Up to this time, Shirley had held her indignation within bounds; but at this remark, she lost all control over herself.

"Why you—you're a thief!" she cried.

Instantly, Mrs. Challoner stepped forward, and raising a reproving hand, she said with great determination:—

"No, no, Shirley, I won't have you say such things! You must leave the room! You and Laurie—I insist upon it!"

Such an outburst from Miriam was so unusual that for a moment both Shirley and Challoner were taken aback. It was clear that unknown to them, Miriam had made up her mind to some course of action; in fact, so completely had she taken the situation in hand, that it was easy to imagine that she had forgotten that she was in the prosecutor's office and not in her own home.

Fierce anger burned in Shirley's impulsive heart, as glancing at Murgatroyd, she perceived that he was as impassive as ever, apparently taking little interest in the scene that was being enacted before him. A few moments elapsed before she could bring herself to agree to Miriam's demand.

"Very well," assented Shirley, "we'll wait outside, but don't keep us waiting long." And, as reluctantly she left the room with Challoner, she said in a loud whisper so that Murgatroyd could hear it: "What on earth can Miriam want to see him alone for?"

For answer, Challoner merely shook his head.

Left alone with the prosecutor, Miriam asked permission to lock the door; and although surprised at such a request, Murgatroyd went over to the door and locked it. Then, motioning politely for her to be seated, he took a chair opposite to hers and asked severely:—

"Mrs. Challoner, what do you mean by this? Do you recall the compact made nearly six years ago?"

"Yes, yes," she answered, in a manner that showed plainly her desire to conciliate him.

"Your husband went free," Murgatroyd continued, "and when we made our compact, we did not know whether he was innocent or not, whether it was within the power of the law to hold him or to free him. But I kept my part of the compact in good faith—innocent or guilty, he finally went free."

"Yes, yes, I know," she returned eagerly.

"Your part of the compact was silence,—you promised to keep silent,—and yet, twice in this building you have broken your word, and Heaven knows how many times outside," he concluded solemnly.

"Yes, yes," she answered contritely, "I know. Don't think for a moment that I have any fault to find with you, Mr. Murgatroyd. None, whatever. I have always upheld you, always believed in you, I believe in you now...."

"That's more than Shirley does," and Murgatroyd smiled grimly, "for I heard her say that she would like to lynch me—she would, if you would let her," he added lightly.

"But she doesn't understand, Mr. Murgatroyd. She is frightfully impulsive; you must not take her so seriously. Besides, what can a mere girl know of the troubles of—" She paused for a brief moment; and continuing, said in a changed tone: "But I'm glad, very glad that my money could help to put the right man in the right place, glad that my money has done so much good at last. Yes, I was wrong to speak——"

All the while she had been talking, Murgatroyd eyed her strangely.

"What do you want of me?" he broke in suddenly.

"Yes, yes, I must get to the point," she answered timidly, and then looked up at him as if searching for some expression on his face which would help her to go on; but she saw there only impatience, and it was with some trepidation that she proceeded: "Of course you know how splendidly Lawrence has done these last five years—what a man he has made of himself? Why certainly you know, because he helped you with that concrete affair, and—" She paused to see the effect of her words; but again they had been received with apparent indifference. Nevertheless, she said proudly: "Lawrence has gone in business for himself. Yes," she added quickly, nervously tapping the desk before her with her fingers, "and Lawrence can get that hospital job. He wants it—wants it badly, for he knows he would do it right. Mr. Murgatroyd, it would be the making of his business——"

She paused, while her mind struggled helplessly to find the fitting words with which to frame the difficult request that was to come.

"Lawrence needs a bondsman to get that job—a man with one hundred thousand dollars to go on his bond. And you know it is very hard, particularly hard for him to find a man who is worth that much to go on his bond—a bond that he'll do the work, and do it right. Oh, Mr. Murgatroyd, would it be asking too much of you to——"

Murgatroyd rose and gazed at her steadily.

"And you are asking me to go on a hundred-thousand-dollar bond for your husband?"

The tone of his voice told Miriam what she had to expect, and her heart grew chill, but she braced herself to go on:—

"Yes," she answered; and her voice was very gentle and very winning as she proceeded: "And if he could get a little money, just a little to buy materials. We have saved five hundred dollars, but that will not go far. Oh, he has worked so hard, and I don't want him to get discouraged! He wouldn't ask these things for himself—No, indeed! You'll go on his bond, won't you?" she asked with a wan smile. "And loan him a few thousand dollars to start the job?"

There was a long silence; finally Murgatroyd spoke in an even voice:—

"You want me to go on his bond and loan him some thousands of dollars, too?"

Mrs. Challoner inclined her head.

"Why, Mrs. Challoner," Murgatroyd exclaimed, holding up his hands in amazement, "I haven't got the money! I couldn't go on a bond for a hundred thousand dollars; and as for lending him money! Well...."

To Mrs. Challoner, the prosecutor in refusing was acting merely within his rights. However, her feminine instinct had made her conscious of some indefinable change in him; so she persisted:—

"If only you could—"

Miriam ceased abruptly and watched him as he sprang to his feet and for a long time paced up and down the room, gazing at her face each time he passed her. After a while, he came and stood over her, apparently trying to make up his mind whether or not to take a certain course of action. Finally he said with great feeling:—

"Mrs. Challoner, you are the bravest woman I have ever known. Yes, perhaps I can arrange it for you. But first, won't you please call Lawrence—call them both back."

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