were other lawyers in the
world as able in political sagacity and lobby tactics as Hilary Vane;
the Honourable Galusha Hammer, for instance, an old and independent
and wary war-horse who had more than once wrung compromises out of the
Honourable Hilary. The Honourable Galusha Hammer was sent for, and was
now industriously, if quietly and unobtrusively, at work. The Honourable
Hilary was likewise at work, equally quietly and unobtrusively. When
the powers fall out, they do not open up at once with long-distance
artillery. There is always a chance of a friendly settlement. The news
was worth a good deal, for instance, to Mr. Peter Pardriff (brother of
Paul, of Ripton), who refrained, with praiseworthy self-control, from
publishing it in the State Tribune, although the temptation to do so
must have been great. And most of the senatorial twenty saw the trouble
coming and braced their backs against it, but in silence. The capital
had seen no such war as this since the days of Jethro Bass.

In the meantime Mr. Crewe, blissfully ignorant of this impending
conflict, was preparing a speech on national affairs and national
issues which was to startle an unsuspecting State. Mrs. Pomfret, who had
received many clippings and pamphlets, had written him weekly letters
of a nature spurring to his ambition, which incidentally contained many
references to Alice's interest in his career. And Mr. Crewe's mind,
when not intent upon affairs of State, sometimes reverted pleasantly to
thoughts of Victoria Flint; it occurred to him that the Duncan house was
large enough for entertaining, and that he might invite Mrs. Pomfret to
bring Victoria and the inevitable Alice to hear his oration, for which
Mr. Speaker Doby had set a day.

In his desire to give other people pleasure, Mr. Crewe took the trouble
to notify a great many of his friends and acquaintances as to the day of
his speech, in case they might wish to travel to the State capital and
hear him deliver it. Having unexpectedly received in the mail a cheque
from Austen Vane in settlement of the case of the injured horse, Austen
was likewise invited.

Austen smiled when he opened the letter, and with its businesslike
contents there seemed to be wafted from it the perfume and suppliance
of a September day in the Vale of the Blue. From the window of his back
office, looking across the railroad tracks, he could see Sawanec, pale
in her winter garb against a pale winter sky, and there arose i