at has taken place in this room tonight--is sufficiently
conclusive in itself."

"Conclusive?" piped old Timothy Drexel, unable longer to contain himself.
He elbowed his way towards the prisoner and shook a bony finger in front
of his nose. "You miserable scoundrel!" he exploded. "Old fool, eh?
Putty, eh? You hand me taffy and pat me into any shape you like, eh?
You confounded thief! You--you--!"

"Aw, you shut up!" snarled Nickleby, who had sat through it all with that
cynical sneer of his. He knew when he was beaten. With no further word
he followed the detectives from the room.

They crowded about the Honorable Milton Waring and Blatchford Ferguson
with congratulations. Nathaniel Lawson could not say much; but his grip
was tight when he shook hands and his gratitude was evident. McAllister
was not given to expressions of sentiment, but as he bade adieu there was
an unaccustomed enthusiasm in his keen eyes. His editorial in the
morning paper would be strong, very strong; he would call it "The Mantle
of Disraeli," or something like that.

Ben Wade stood to one side, watching them take their leave, and his
tanned face was alight with satisfaction. There would be a tremendous
sensation when the _Recorder_ came out. It would be a bully spread--not
one of graft charges, as originally planned by Mac, but even a better
story of the fight which an honest politician had been forced to put up
in order to remain honest, of the Honorable Milt's investigations and his
announcement regarding a royal commission to probe conditions, the escape
of the Interprovincial from the criminal activities of its president, the
dramatic arrest of Nickleby, the work of Cristy Lawson. Trust Mac not to
miss any of it.

And Ben Wade, whose faith in the Honorable Milton Waring had remained
unshaken when things looked blackest, smiled as he watched. His advice
to McAllister, his faith in Waring, had been vindicated; but he was not
thinking of this. He was thinking of another's steadfast faith that had
been sorely tried. It would be a happy morrow for Dolly Waring.

"So long, Milt," he said heartily. "We're proud of you, old man."

CHAPTER XXVIII

SOUVENIRS

Because the world is such a very big place and there are so many people
busy with so many different things, life goes on as usual with little
time for more than a brief pause of wonder at the experiences of
others. The metal which casts the page of to-day's events g