s that the
name of the owner of the house on Austen's lips brought the first thought
of him to Austen's mind. He was going to see and speak with Mr. Flint, a
man who had been his enemy ever since the day he had come here and laid
down his pass on the president's desk; the man who--so he believed until
three days ago--had stood between him and happiness. Well, it did not
matter now.

Austen followed the silent-moving servant through the hall. Those were
the stairs which knew her feet, these the rooms--so subtly
flower-scented--she lived in; then came the narrow passage to the sterner
apartment of the master himself. Mr. Flint was alone, and seated upright
behind the massive oak desk, from which bulwark the president of the
Northeastern was wont to meet his opponents and his enemies; and few
visitors came into his presence, here or elsewhere, who were not to be
got the better of, if possible. A life-long habit had accustomed Mr.
Flint to treat all men as adversaries until they were proved otherwise.
His square, close-cropped head, his large features, his alert eyes, were
those of a fighter.

He did not rise, but nodded. Suddenly Austen was enveloped in a flame of
wrath that rose without warning and blinded him, and it was with a
supreme effort to control himself that he stopped in the doorway. He was
frightened, for he had felt this before, and he knew it for the anger
that demands physical violence.

"Come in, Mr. Vane," said the president.

Austen advanced to the desk, and laid the boxes before Mr. Flint.

"Mr. Vane told me to say that he would have brought these himself, had it
been possible. Here is the list, and I shall be much obliged if you will
verify it before I go back."

"Sit down." said Mr. Flint.

Austen sat down, with the corner of the desk between them, while Mr.
Flint opened the boxes and began checking off the papers on the list.

"How is your father this afternoon?" he asked, without looking up.

"As well as can be expected," said Austen.

"Of course nobody knew his condition but himself," Mr. Flint continued;
"but it was a great shock to me--when he resigned as my counsel three
days ago."

Austen laid his forearm on the desk, and his hand closed.

"He resigned three days ago?" he exclaimed.

Mr. Flint was surprised, but concealed it.

"I can understand, under the circumstances, how he has overlooked telling
you. His resignation takes effect to-day."

Austen was silent a moment, while