a campaign-fund contribution. How do I
know it was? It never reached us. It's Nickleby's money and its loss
is his funeral. Go and report to him and try to understand the meaning
of the word 'loyalty.' Our party doesn't care a tinker's dam who has
had, now has, or will have that envelope. And if you want to get
thrown out by the scruff of the neck just try going to headquarters
with your crazy proposition."

"You--surely you don't mean that, Fergey, old man?" said Podmore,
searching the other's face with misgiving.

"Every word of it. And here's something else, Podmore, that I won't
charge you for. If you're wise you'll take a straight tip and get out
of this office as fast as you know how--out of town--clean out of the
country! You don't seem to keep as well posted on the latest news as
you used to. Have you read that?"

Ferguson had opened a drawer as he spoke and tossed out a newspaper, so
folded that an item encircled by red ink was uppermost. Podmore slowly
picked up the paper. As his glance travelled quickly through the
marked item his face paled--what part of it was not black and blue.

"Oh, Rives, eh? I--No, I didn't know he was out of the pen." He tried
hard to keep his voice steady, but did not succeed very well.

"He's been out over two weeks now," nodded Ferguson, making no effort
to conceal his contempt. "And he hasn't forgotten that a fresh
newspaper reporter by the name of Podmore played him a dirty trick
twelve years ago. He's sworn to get you for that."

"How--how do you know this?" asked Podmore hoarsely.

"'Itchy' McGuire called to see me day before yesterday. He's met
Rives. If I were you I'd hunt me up a nice little island somewhere in
the Tropics where you can live with the rest of the monkeys; they might
elect you to Parliament or crown you king or something. Rives is one
bad actor and he's sore--good and sore."

Podmore's attempted laugh had no mirth in it. He reached for his hat,
and as he said a hasty good-bye he did not look at all well. For
several minutes after he had closed the rear door Blatchford Ferguson
leaned back in his chair, chuckling.

Now, while this remarkable interview was taking place in the inner
sanctum Phil Kendrick was again shaking hands with Conway in the outer
office. A moment later he went on through to the secretary's office,
speculating on just what he should say to the self-contained Miss
Williams. But, as before, he found her office