flight before the election Nevins hastens to Chicago. In the
crowd at the Independence Headquarters he mingles unobserved. "What news
have you from California?" he asks of one of the press committee. This
is thought to be the pivotal State. At least this is the claim made by
the Plutocrats.

"The indications are that the State will go against us."

"And why so?"

"Because we have not been able to send speakers there, and the
Plutocrats wrecked the train which was conveying the biograph pictures.
You know the Press of the slope, with but few exceptions, are owned by
the Magnates and suppress every bit of news that would be detrimental to
them. They have distorted the acts of the Committee of Forty. Out in
California the great mass of the people look upon the Independents as a
party of Anarchists."

"Trueman can be elected without California, can he not?"

"Elected! Why, he will carry forty States."

"You really believe it?" asks Nevins, earnestly.

"I would wager my life on it," is the instant reply.

Nevins hurries from the headquarters and goes to his room. He writes a
letter to Trueman, setting forth his hopes that the interests of the
people will ever remain Trueman's actuating principle. With absolute
fidelity he tells of the struggle he has undergone since the day he sent
Golding to his death, and his reason for procrastinating in ending his
life.

When the letter is finished Nevins reads it with evident satisfaction.

"Now I will go to the committee," is his resolve.

A pistol lies on the table. He picks up the weapon. There is no
hesitancy in his manner. Death has been a matter which he has
contemplated for months, and it holds no terror for him.

"If I have sinned against Thee, O, God," he murmurs, "death would be too
mild a punishment for me. I would deserve to be everlastingly damned, to
live on this earth and bear the denunciation of my fellowmen.

"My death, like those of the committee who have already fulfilled their
pledge, is not suicide, but part of the inevitable price of liberty."

The pistol is raised to his temple. Then a thought flashes upon him.
"Your death will come as an ante-climax to the election. It may be the
means of defeating the Independents."

This thought causes him to lower the pistol.

"To-morrow," he mutters.

At daybreak Nevins is at the headquarters and remains near the chief
operator, eager for every detail of the election.

"What is the weather prediction?"