s than was wont. "Gentlemen, are we
then agreed? Does Massachusetts consent? Is Virginia with us? Is
New York agreeable? Does Kentucky also agree?"

There was no murmur of dissent, and the leader, half rising,
concluded;

"Gentlemen, we agreed four days ago that the Countess St. Auban
should leave Washington not later than that night. We are now
agreed that, in case of her return, she shall if possible be placed
under the charge, not of any responsible figure of _our_ party, but
of a gentleman distinguished in the councils of an _opposing_
party, whose abolitionist beliefs coincide somewhat with her own.
Let us hope they will both get them to Missouri, the debating
ground, the center of the political battle-field to-day. But,
Missouri or Hungary, Kentucky or France, let us hope that one or
both of them shall pass from our horizon.

"There remains but one question, as earlier suggested by Kentucky:
if we agree upon New York as our agent, who shall be our emissary
to New York, and how shall he accomplish our purpose with that
gentleman? Shall we decide it by the usual procedure of
parliamentary custom? Do you allow the--the Chair--" he smiled as
he bowed before them--"to appoint this committee of one? I suppose
you agree that the smaller the committee and the more secret the
committee's action, the better for us all?"

There was silence to this. A moment's hesitation, and the speaker
announced his decision. "The gentleman from Kentucky is appointed
to execute this task for the people of the United States. Let us
hope he never will have need to serve."

It cost the self-control of some to remain silent at this, and the
courage of the remaining member also to preserve the silence which
meant his acceptance of a task so difficult and distasteful.

"Sir," hastily went on the original speaker, "our thanks are due to
you. We shall limit you with no instructions. All the money
required by you as agent, or required by your agent, shall of
course be forthcoming, and you shall quietly have also the
assistance of all the secret service, if so desired. None of us
must know what has become of the Countess St. Auban, now or later.
You have heard me. Gentlemen, we adjourn."

He stepped now to the door, and admitted the ancient colored man,
with his lights. The curtains were drawn, shutting out even the
twilight gloom. And now the lights blazed up, illuminating an
historic stage.

The chief of the deliberat