, was curious. There was no horror in his face, no fear, no shadow of
remorse. Some wholly different sentiment seemed to have transformed the
man. He was younger, more virile. He seemed as though he could scarcely
sit still.

"My friend," Selingman said, "I know that you are one of our children,
that you are one of those who have seen the truth and worked steadfastly
for the great cause with the heart of a patriot and the unswerving
fidelity of a strong man. But tell me the honest truth. There is
something else in your life--you have some other feeling about this man
Hunterleys' death?"

Draconmeyer removed his eyes from the front of the hotel and turned
slowly towards his companion. There was a transfiguring smile upon his
lips. Again he gave Selingman the impression of complete rejuvenation,
of an elderly man suddenly transformed into something young and
vigorous.

"There is something else, Selingman," he confessed. "This is the moment
when I dare speak of it. I will tell you first of any living person.
There is a woman over there whom I have set up as an idol, and before
whose shrine I have worshipped. There is a woman over there who has
turned the dull paths of my life into a flowery way. I am a patriot, and
I have worked for my country, Selingman, as you have worked. But I have
worked, also, that I might taste for once before I die the great
passion. Don't stare at me, man! Remember I am not like you. You can
laugh your way through the world, with a kiss here and a bow there, a
ribbon to your lips at night, thrown to the winds in the morning. I
haven't that sort of philosophy. Love doesn't come to me like that. It's
set in my heart amongst the great things. It's set there side by side
with the greatest of all."

"His wife!" Selingman muttered.

"Are you so colossal a fool as only to have guessed it at this moment?"
Draconmeyer continued contemptuously. "If he hadn't blundered across our
path here, if he hadn't been my political enemy, I should still some day
have taken him by the throat and killed him. You don't know what risks I
have been running," he went on, with a sudden hoarseness. "In her heart
she half loves him still. If he hadn't been a fool, a prejudiced,
over-conscientious, stiff-necked fool, I should have lost her within the
last twenty-four hours. I have had to fight and scheme as I have never
fought and schemed before, to keep them apart. I have had to pick my way
through shoals innumerable, hol