men, it
was Mornway who was the more composed.

"I thought I should have seen you before this," he said.

Fleetwood returned his grasp and shook hands with Shackwell.

"I knew you needed to be let alone. I didn't mean to come to-night, but
I wanted to say a word to you."

At this, Shackwell, who had fallen into the background, made a motion
of leave-taking, but the Governor arrested it.

"We haven't any secrets from Hadley, have we, Fleetwood?"

"Certainly not. I am glad to have him stay. I have simply come to say
that I have been thinking over my future arrangements, and that I find
it will not be possible for me to continue in office."

There was a long pause, during which Shackwell kept his eyes on
Mornway. The Governor had turned pale, but when he spoke his voice was
full and firm.

"This is sudden," he said.

Fleetwood stood leaning against a high chair-back, fretting its carved
ornaments with restless fingers. "It is sudden--yes. I--there are a
variety of reasons."

"Is one of them the fact that you are afraid of what the 'Spy' is going
to say?"

The Attorney-General flushed deeply and moved away a few steps. "I'm
sick of mud-throwing," he muttered.

"George Fleetwood!" Mornway exclaimed. He had advanced toward his
friend, and the two stood confronting each other, already oblivious of
Shackwell's presence.

"It's not only that, of course. I've been frightfully hard-worked. My
health has given way--"

"Since yesterday?"

Fleetwood forced a smile. "My dear fellow, what a slave-driver you are!
Hasn't a man the right to take a rest?"

"Not a soldier on the eve of battle. You have never failed me before."

"I don't want to fail you now. But it isn't the eve of battle--you're
in, and that's the main thing."

"The main thing at present is that you promised to stay in with me, and
that I must have your real reason for breaking your word."

Fleetwood made a deprecatory movement. "My dear Governor, if you only
knew it, I'm doing you a service in backing out."

"A service--why?"

"Because I'm hated--because the Lead Trust wants my blood, and will
have yours too if you appoint me."

"Ah, that's the real reason, then--you're afraid of the 'Spy'?"

"Afraid--?"

The Governor continued to speak with dry deliberation. "Evidently,
then, you know what they mean to say."

Fleetwood laughed. "One needn't do that to be sure it will be
abominable!"

"Who cares how abominable it is if it isn't true?"