r as the door, cast another look back at his father,--who
was sitting motionless, with head bowed, as when he came,--and went out.
So Mr. Vane remained for a full minute after the door had closed, and
then he raised his head sharply and gave a piercing glance at the
curtains that separated Number Seven from the governor's room. In three
strides he had reached them, flung them open, and the folding doors
behind them, already parted by four inches. The gas was turned low, but
under the chandelier was the figure of a young man struggling with an
overcoat. The Honourable Hilary did not hesitate, but came forward with a
swiftness that paralyzed the young man, who turned upon him a face on
which was meant to be written surprise and a just indignation, but in
reality was a mixture of impudence and pallid fright. The Honourable
Hilary, towering above him, and with that grip on his arm, was a
formidable person.

"Listening, were you, Ham?" he demanded.

"No," cried Mr. Tooting, with a vehemence he meant for force. "No, I
wasn't. Listening to who?"

"Humph!" said the Honourable Hilary, still retaining with one hand the
grip on Mr. Tooting 's arm, and with the other turning up the gas until
it flared in Mr. Tooting's face. "What are you doing in the governor's
room?"

"I left my overcoat in here this afternoon when you sent me to bring up
the senator."

"Ham," said Mr. Vane, "it isn't any use lying to me."

"I ain't lying to you," said Mr. Tooting, "I never did. I often lied for
you," he added, "and you didn't raise any objections that I remember."

Mr. Vane let go of the arm contemptuously.

"I've done dirty work for the Northeastern for a good many years," cried
Mr. Tooting, seemingly gaining confidence now that he was free; "I've
slaved for 'em, and what have they done for me? They wouldn't even back
me for county solicitor when I wanted the job."

"Turned reformer, Ham?"

"I guess I've got as much right to turn reformer as some folks I know."

"I guess you have," agreed the Honourable Hilary; unexpectedly. He seated
himself on a chair, and proceeded to regard Mr. Tooting in a manner
extremely disconcerting to that gentleman. This quality of
impenetrability, of never being sure when he was angry, had baffled more
able opponents of Hilary Vane than Mr. Hamilton Tooting.

"Good-night, Ham."

"I want to say--" Mr. Tooting began.

"Good-night, Ham," said Mr. Vane, once more.

Mr. Tooting looked at him, slowly but