e fact that he beckoned
her into his writing room as soon as breakfast was over did not tend
to allay her suspicions. He closed and locked the door after her, and
taking the paper from a drawer in his desk bade her read a certain
article in it.

The article was an arraignment of Jethro Bass--and a terrible
arraignment indeed. Step by step it traced his career from the
beginning, showing first of all how he had debauched his own town of
Coniston; how, enlarging on the same methods, he had gradually extended
his grip over the county and finally over the state; how he had bought
and sold men for his own power and profit, deceived those who had
trusted in him, corrupted governors and legislators, congressmen
and senators, and even justices of the courts: how he had trafficked
ruthlessly in the enterprises of the people. Instance upon instance was
given, and men of high prominence from whom he had received bribes were
named, not the least important of these being the Honorable Alva Hopkins
of Gosport.

Mrs. Merrill looked up from the paper in dismay.

"It's copied from the Newcastle Guardian," she said, for lack of
immediate power to comment. "Isn't the Guardian the chief paper in that
state?"

"Yes, Worthington's bought it, and he instigated the article, of course.
I've been afraid of this for a long time, Carry," said Mr. Merrill,
pacing up and down. "There's a bigger fight than they've ever had coming
on up there, and this is the first gun. Worthington, with Duncan behind
him, is trying to get possession of and consolidate all the railroads in
the western part of that state. If he succeeds, it will mean the end of
Jethro's power. But he won't succeed."

"Stephen," said his wife, "do you mean to say that Jethro Bass will try
to defeat this consolidation simply to keep his power?"

"Well, my dear," answered Mr. Merrill, still pacing, "two wrongs don't
make a right, I admit. I've known these things a long time, and I've
thought about them a good deal. But I've had to run along with the tide,
or give place to another man who would; and--and starve."

Mrs. Merrill's eyes slowly filled with tears.

"Stephen," she began, "do you mean to say--?" There she stopped, utterly
unable to speak. He ceased his pacing and sat down beside her and took
her hand.

"Yes, my dear, I mean to say I've submitted to these things. God knows
whether I've been right or wrong, but I have. I've often thought I'd
be happier if I resigned my