med. "Never could. All I know
is that if Hilary Vane pulls us through this mess, in the shape he's in,
it'll be a miracle.

"His mind seems sound enough to-day--but he's lost his grip, I tell you.
I don't wonder Flint's beside himself. Here's Adam Hunt with both feet
in the trough, and no more chance of the nomination than I have, and
Bascom and Botcher teasing him on, and he's got enough votes with Crewe
to lock up that convention for a dark horse. And who's the dark horse?"

Mr. Manning, who was a silent man, pointed with his thumb in the
direction Austen had taken.

"Hilary Vane's own son," said Mr. Ridout, voicing the gesture; "they
tell me that Tom Gaylord's done some pretty slick work. Now I leave it
to you, Manning, if that isn't a mess!"

At this moment the conversation was interrupted by the appearance on
the stairway of the impressive form of United States Senator Whitredge,
followed by a hall boy carrying the senatorial gripsack. The senator's
face wore a look of concern which could not possibly be misinterpreted.

"How's Hilary?" were his first words.

Mr. Ridout and Mr. Manning glanced at each other.

"He's in Number Seven; you'd better take a look at him, Senator."

The senator drew breath, directed that his grip be put in the room where
he was to repose that night, produced an amber cigar-holder from a case,
and a cigar from his waistcoat pocket.

"I thought I'd better come down early," he said, "things aren't
going just as they should, and that's the truth. In fact," he added,
significantly tapping his pocket, "I've got a letter from Mr. Flint to
Hilary which I may have to use. You understand me."

"I guessed as much," said Mr. Ridout.

"Ahem! I saw young Vane going out of the hotel just now," the senator
remarked. "I am told, on pretty good authority, that under certain
circumstances, which I must confess seem not unlikely at present, he may
be a candidate for the nomination. The fact that he is in town tends to
make the circumstance more probable."

"He's just been in to see Hilary," said Mr. Ridout.

"You don't tell me!" said the senator, pausing as he lighted his cigar;
"I was under the impression that they were not on speaking terms."

"They've evidently got together now, that--" said Mr. Ridout. "I wonder
how old Hilary would feel about it. We couldn't do much with Austen Vane
if he was governor--that's a sure thing."

The senator pondered a moment.

"It's been badly managed," he