a gentleman, even such a wreck of a
gentleman as Carey, in a base position.

"Mrs. Carey spoke to you about it some t-time ago, I be-believe,"
stammered Carey, who was sorry that he had come there by this time. "I
was a useful public servant."

The President smiled grimly.

"We are under great obligations to Mrs. Oswald Carey," he said, "and I
shall see that you are restored to your position, only you must not be
so obstinate about your assessments in the future, as there is no
Legitimate party now, thanks to your beautiful wife."

"Thanks to my beautiful wife! What do you mean, sir?" blurted Carey,
staggering over toward the President and resting upon his two hands on
the desk. "Thanks to my beautiful wife!"

"Come, come, sir," said the President, "be seated. You, of course, know
what I mean. Your wife never spoke to me about restoring you to your
office. She said that she would some time ask a favor of me in return
for the information which she gave me. You have come to claim that
return. I will keep my promise to her. However, if you do not leave
brandy alone, the office will not do you much good."

"Damn your office," cried Carey, who had been a gentleman and a man of
honor before the passion for gambling had seized upon him. Once he had
dreamed of a home, of children who should be proud to own him as their
father, and he still loved his wife. "What information did Mrs. Carey
give you?"

Carey's hands nervously clutched a heavy bronze inkstand, which lay on
the table in front of the President.

"The information which led to the suppression of the Royalist outbreak
at Aldershot. Mrs. Carey is a government spy and informer," answered
Bagshaw brutally. Then he tried to rise from his chair, for he saw a
threatening look in Carey's eye.

He was too late, for Carey, crying, "You lie, you hound!" lifted up the
heavy inkstand which his hands had been mechanically clutching, and
hurled it at the President's bald head.

The missile stunned the President and cut a great gash in his head, and
he fell senseless forward on the desk, a stream of mingled ink and blood
dripping from his forehead upon the papers.

Carey looked at him disdainfully for a moment, and laughed derisively.

The policeman at the door said nothing to him as he went out; there had
been no noise from the private room.

Then he walked a little hurriedly to his cab and told the cabman to
drive to the club.

On the way there he trembled violent