for
preliminary information. The hour set aside by Mr. Heathcote had passed
long since, and Harley thought that he would be out of the way.

Jimmy Grayson's room was on the second floor, and Harley walked slowly
up the steps, but at the head of the stairway he was met by Mr.
Heathcote himself.

"Good-afternoon," said Harley, cheerfully. "I hope that you had a
pleasant talk with Mr. Grayson. I'm going in to see him now myself; a
presidential nominee can't get much rest."

Mr. Heathcote drew himself up importantly.

"I beg your pardon," he said, "but you cannot--ah--see Mr. Grayson.
There has been a feeling with us in the East--we are in a position there
to judge, being in thorough touch with the great world--that it was not
advisable for Mr. Grayson to speak to or to come in direct contact with
the press. This familiar talk with the newspapers rather impairs the
confidence of our great magnates and prejudices us in the eyes of
Europe. It is better--ah--that his remarks should be transmitted through
a third person, who can give to the press what is fitting and reserve
the remainder."

Harley gazed at Heathcote in amazement, but there was nothing in his
manner to indicate that he was not in earnest.

"And you are the third person, I suppose?" said Harley.

"I have so constituted myself," replied Mr. Heathcote, and his tone was
aggravatingly quiet and assured. "As one conversant with great affairs,
I am the most fit."

"Has Mr. Grayson agreed to this?" asked Harley.

"My dear man, I cannot permit you to cross-examine me. But, really, I
wish to be on good terms with the press, which is quite a useful
institution within its limits. Now, you seem to be rather more sedate
than the others, and I wish you would have the goodness to explain to
them how I have taken affairs in hand."

Harley flushed at his patronizing tone, and for a moment he was tempted
to thrust him out of his way and proceed with his errand to Jimmy
Grayson's room, but he reflected that it was better to let the
committeeman make the rope for his own hanging, and he turned away with
a quiet, "Very well, I shall forego the interview."

But as he went back down the stairs he could not help asking himself the
question, "Does Jimmy Grayson know? Could he have consented to such an
arrangement?" and at once came the answer--"Impossible."

He returned to the porch, where all the chairs were filled, although the
talk was slow. He noticed, with pleasure,