to
write the sketch of Bassett for the "Courier" lived in his memory.
Something had been said there about Madison College; and his connection
with Fitch's office had been mentioned, and on the fears thus roused in
Morton Bassett, he, Daniel Harwood, had reared a tottering
superstructure of aims, hopes, ambitions, that threatened to overwhelm
him! But now, as the first shock passed, he saw all things clearly. He
would save Sylvia even though Bassett must be saved first. If Thatcher
could be silenced in no other way, he might have the senatorship; or Dan
would go direct to Bassett and demand that he withdraw from the contest.
He was not afraid of Morton Bassett now.

"I had gone to work for that construction company in the Boordman where
you found me. It was his idea to move me into your office--I guess you
thought you picked me out; but he gave me a quiet tip to ask you for the
job. Well, he'd been dropping into the construction office now and then
to see me--you know the boss was never in town and I hadn't much to do.
He used to dictate letters--said he couldn't trust the public stenogs in
the hotels; and one day he gave me that letter to copy. He had written
it out in lead pencil beforehand, but seemed mighty anxious to get it
just right. After I copied it he worked it over several times, before he
got it to suit him. He said it was a little business he was attending to
for a friend. We burnt up the discards in the little old grate in the
office. He had brought some paper and envelopes along with him, and I
remember he held a sheet up to the light to make sure it didn't have a
watermark. He threw down a twenty-dollar gold piece and took the letter
away with him. After I had moved into your office he spoke of that
letter once: one day when you were out he asked me how much money had
been mentioned in the letter."

"When was that, Rose?"

"A few days after the state convention when you shot the hot tacks into
Thatcher. He had been at Waupegan, you remember."

Dan remembered. And he recalled also that Bassett had seen Sylvia at
Mrs. Owen's the day following the convention, and it was not astonishing
that the sight of her had reminded him of his offer to pay for her
education. His own relation to the matter was clear enough now that Rose
had yielded her secret.

Rose watched him as he drew on his overcoat and she handed him his hat
and gloves. Her friend, "the beautiful one," would not suffer; she was
confident of t