the rabble hooted him,
the more he essayed to hold scrupulously the scales of life and death.
And the crowd grew and grew, as men came away from their work. There
were many that loved the man who lay in the jaws of death, and a spirit
of mad revolt surged in their breasts. And the sky was gray, and the
bleak night deepened and the shadow of the gallows crept on.

Suddenly a strange inarticulate murmur spread through the crowd, a vague
whisper of no one knew what. Something had happened. Somebody was
coming. A second later and one of the outskirts of the throng was
agitated, and a convulsive cheer went up from it, and was taken up
infectiously all along the street. The crowd parted--a hansom dashed
through the center. "Grodman! Grodman!" shouted those who recognized the
occupant. "Grodman! Hurrah!" Grodman was outwardly calm and pale, but
his eyes glittered; he waved his hand encouragingly as the hansom dashed
up to the door, cleaving the turbulent crowd as a canoe cleaves the
waters. Grodman sprang out, the constables at the portal made way for
him respectfully. He knocked imperatively, the door was opened
cautiously; a boy rushed up and delivered a telegram; Grodman forced his
way in, gave his name, and insisted on seeing the Home Secretary on a
matter of life and death. Those near the door heard his words and
cheered, and the crowd divined the good omen, and the air throbbed with
cannonades of joyous sound. The cheers rang in Grodman's ears as the
door slammed behind him. The reporters struggled to the front. An
excited knot of working men pressed round the arrested hansom, they took
the horse out. A dozen enthusiasts struggled for the honor of placing
themselves between the shafts. And the crowd awaited Grodman.

CHAPTER XII.

Grodman was ushered into the conscientious Minister's study. The doughty
chief of the agitation was, perhaps, the one man who could not be
denied. As he entered, the Home Secretary's face seemed lit up with
relief. At a sign from his master, the amanuensis who had brought in the
last telegram took it back with him into the outer room where he worked.
Needless to say not a tithe of the Minister's correspondence ever came
under his own eyes.

"You have a valid reason for troubling me, I suppose, Mr. Grodman?" said
the Home Secretary, almost cheerfully. "Of course it is about Mortlake?"

"It is; and I have the best of all reasons."

"Take a seat. Proceed."

"Pray do not consider me