ng big, you
fool! What earthly use is this information to me? I couldn't frighten
Warrington with it."

"I haven't told you the woman's name yet," said Bolles, leering.

"The woman's name? What's that got to do with it?"

"A whole lot. It was Katherine Challoner, the actress, Bennington's
wife; that's who it was!"

McQuade sat very still. So still, that he could hear the clock ticking
in the parlor. Bennington's wife!

Chapter XII

The death of his aunt gave Warrington a longing for action--swift
mental and physical action. To sit in that dark, empty house, to read
or to write, was utterly impossible; nor had he any desire to take
long rides into the country. His mind was never clearer than when he
rode alone, and what he wanted was confusion, noise, excitement,
struggle. So he made an appointment with Senator Henderson the next
morning. He left the Benningtons with the promise that he would return
that evening and dine with them. Warrington had become the senator's
hobby; he was going to do great things with this young man's future.
He would some day make an ambassador of him; it would be a pleasant
souvenir of his old age. Warrington was brilliant, a fine linguist,
was a born diplomat, had a good voice, and a fund of wit and repartee;
nothing more was required. He would give the name Warrington a high
place in the diplomatic history of the United States. Some of the most
capable diplomats this country had produced had been poets.
Warrington's being a playwright would add luster to the office. The
senator was going over these things, when a clerk announced that Mr.
Warrington was waiting to see him.

"Send him right in."

Immediately Warrington entered. He was simply dressed in a business
suit of dark blue. He wore a straw hat and a black tie. There was no
broad band of crape on his hat or his sleeve. He had the poet's horror
of parading grief, simply because it was considered fashionable to do
so. He sincerely believed that outward mourning was obsolete, a custom
of the Middle Ages.

"Ha!" ejaculated the senator.

"Good morning. How goes the fight?"

"Fine, my boy; I'll land you there next week; you see if I don't. The
main obstacle is the curious attitude of the press. You and I know the
reason well enough. McQuade is back of this influence. But the voter
doesn't know this, and will accept the surface indications only. Now
you know the newspaper fellows. Why not drop around to the offices and