swept off his feet by a torrent
of enthusiasm. The men crowded about him, slapping him upon the
shoulders, shouting their approval, reaching for his hand. One
brandished a revolver under his nose, with a shrill cry of "This'll do
it, Mac! This'll do it, by God!" The rest had turned to each other,
embracing frantically, and repeating his words in a kind of frenzy.

Presently McGrath raised his hand, and, as silence was restored at the
signal, turned to the bar-tender with his thin smile.

"Set 'em up, Dick," he said composedly. "It's on me, this time, and
we'll drink to better days."

In the confusion Cavendish made his way to the side-door, and passing
through it into the street, hesitated, dazzled by a brilliant light. It
was broad day.

* * * * *

As the Lieutenant-Governor entered his ante-room that morning his eyes
contracted suddenly, and he stopped, with his hand upon the knob of the
door. There could be no mistaking the look in the face of the man who
sat facing him, gripping desperately at the arms of his chair. Cavendish
was as white as chalk, with the hunted look of despair which lay so
vividly on Barclay's remembrance of the night when they had met on
Bradbury Avenue. He rose as the Lieutenant-Governor appeared and drew
himself up with an effort at steadiness, conscious that the others
present were observing him narrowly. But Barclay's hesitation was as
brief as it had been involuntary. With a bare glance at his
subordinates, he came forward cordially to take Cavendish's hand, and
then, opening the door of his private office, motioned him to enter
first.

"Glad to see you," he said steadily, as their hands met.

Once inside, the manner of both men changed as abruptly as it had been
assumed. The Lieutenant-Governor went slowly toward his desk, with his
head bent, and Cavendish, throwing himself into the nearest chair, and,
with no attempt at concealment, drew a flask from his pocket and drank a
long draught. He looked up to find that the Lieutenant-Governor had
wheeled at the desk, and was standing with his eyes fixed upon him.

"Wait a minute," said Cavendish, as Barclay seemed about to speak. "We
won't discuss this, for the moment, if you please."

He held up the flask with a shrug.

"In fact we needn't discuss it at all," he continued. "I've simply gone
to hell, that's all there is about it. I knew I would. I told you so
long ago. I didn't come here to make excuses