son will go to Austen Vane when signal is
given in convention. Am told on credible authority same is true of other
sections, including many of Hunt's men and Crewe's. This is the result
of quiet but persistent political work I spoke about. BILLINGS."

She handed the telegram back to her father in silence. "Do you believe
it now?" he demanded exultantly.

"Who is the man whose name is signed to that message?" she asked.

Mr. Flint eyed her narrowly.

"What difference does that make?" he demanded.

"None," said Victoria. But a vision of Mr. Billings rose before her.
He had been pointed out to her as the man who had opposed Austen in
the Meader suit. "If the bishop of the diocese signed it, I would not
believe that Austen Vane had anything to do with the matter."

"Ah, you defend him!" cried Mr. Flint. "I thought so--I thought so.
I take off my hat to him, he is a cleverer man even than I. His own
father, whom he has ruined, comes up here and defends him."

"Does Hilary Vane defend him?" Victoria asked curiously.

"Yes," said Mr. Flint, beside himself; "incredible as it may seem,
he does. I have Austen Vane to thank for still another favour--he is
responsible for Hilary's condition to-day. He has broken him down--he
has made him an imbecile. The convention is scarcely thirty-six hours
off, and Hilary is about as fit to handle it as--as Eben Fitch. Hilary,
who never failed me in his life!"

Victoria did not speak for a moment, and then she reached out her hand
quickly and laid it on his that still held the telegram. A lounge stood
on one side of the fireplace, and she drew him gently to it, and he sat
down at her side. His acquiescence to her was a second nature, and he
was once more bewildered. His anger now seemed to have had no effect
upon her whatever.

"I waited up to tell you about Hilary Vane, father," she said gently.
"He has had a stroke, which I am afraid is serious."

"A stroke!" cried Mr. Flint, "Why didn't you tell me? How do you know?"

Victoria related how she had found Hilary coming away from Fairview, and
what she had done, and the word Dr. Tredway had sent.

"Good God!" cried Mr. Flint, "he won't be able to go to the convention!"
And he rose and pressed the electric button. "Towers," he said, when the
butler appeared, "is Mr. Freeman still in my room? Tell him to telephone
to Ripton at once and find out how Mr. Hilary Vane is. They'll have to
send a messenger. That accounts for it," he went o