lse with a strap comes along."

"They're organized against us. We could have put it over six months ago.
Not now."

"Then you'd better get out," Doyle said, shortly.

"I'm thinking of it."

But Doyle had no real fear of him. He was sulky. Well, let him sulk.

Akers relapsed into silence. His interest in the conspiracy had always
been purely self-interest; he had never had Woslosky's passion, or
Doyle's cold fanaticism. They had carried him off his feet with their
promises, but how much were they worth? They had failed to elect him.
Every bit of brains, cunning and resource in their organization had been
behind him, and they had failed.

This matter of hell, now? Suppose one put by something on the other
account? Suppose one turned square? Wouldn't that earn something?
Suppose that one went to the Cardews and put all his cards on the table,
asking nothing in return? Suppose one gave up the by-paths of life,
and love in a hedgerow, and did the other thing? Wouldn't that earn
something?

He roused himself and took a perfunctory part in the conversation, but
his mind obstinately returned to itself. He knew every rendezvous of the
Red element in the country; he knew where their literature was printed;
he knew the storehouses of arms and ammunition, and the plans for
carrying on the city government by the strikers after the reign of
terrorization which was to subdue the citizens.

Suppose he turned informer? Could he set a price, and that price Lily?
But he discarded that. He was not selling now, he was earning. He would
set himself right first, and--provided the government got the leaders
before those leaders got him, as they would surely try to do--he would
have earned something, surely.

Lily had come to him once when he called. She might come again, when he
had earned her.

Doyle sat back in his chair and watched him. He saw that he had gone
to pieces under defeat, and men did strange things at those times. With
uncanny shrewdness he gauged Akers' reaction; his loss of confidence
and, he surmised, his loyalty. He would follow his own interest now, and
if he thought that it lay in turning informer, he might try it. But it
would take courage.

When the conference broke up Doyle was sure of where his man stood.
He was not worried. They did not need Akers any longer. He had been a
presentable tool, a lay figure to give the organization front, and they
had over-rated him, at that. He had failed them. Doyle, watch