away a real advantage out of pique. Consider this
matter. I can't pledge the paper or the chief. I simply say--see him
and talk it over."

Tallente shook his head.

"I am much obliged, Greening," he said, "but I don't want to go through
life with this thing hanging over me. Miller has a copy of the
article, without a doubt. If you turn him down, he'll find some one
else to publish it. I should never know when the thunderbolt was going
to fail. I am prepared now and I would rather get it over."

"Is Dartrey going to back you?" Greening asked.

Tallente smiled.

"I can't give away secrets."

Greening turned slowly away.

"I am off for a rubber of bridge," he said. "I am sorry, Tallente.
Better dismiss this interview from your mind altogether. It very likely
wouldn't have led to anything. All the same, I envy you your
confidence. If I could only guess at its source, I'd have a leader for
to-morrow morning."

Tallente walked down the stairs with a smile upon his lips. He put on
his hat and coat and hesitated for a moment on the broad steps. Then a
sudden wonderful thought came to him, an impulse entirely irresistible.
He started off westward, walking with feverish haste.

The spirit of adventure sat in his heart as he passed through the
crowded streets. The night was wonderfully clear, the stars were
brilliant overhead and from behind the Colliseum dome a corner of the
yellow moon was showing. He was conscious of a sudden new feeling of
kinship with these pleasure-seeking crowds who jostled him here and
there upon the pavement. He was glad to find himself amongst them and
of them. He felt that he had come down from the chilly heights to walk
the lighted highways of the world. The keen air with its touch of frost
invigorated him. There was a new suppleness in his pulses, a queer
excitement in his whole being, which he scarcely understood until his
long walk came to an end and he found himself at a standstill in front
of the house in Charles Street, his unadmitted destination.

He glanced at his watch and found that it was half an hour after
midnight. There was a light in the lower room into which Jane had taken
him on the night of her arrival in town. Above, the whole of the house
seemed in darkness. He walked a little way down the street and back
again. Jane was dining, he knew, with the Princess de Fenaples, her
godmother, and had spoken of going on to a ball with her afterwards. In
that case she could scarce