"I am in a position, gentlemen, to declare that there is not a word of
truth in that statement. It is true there is a very definite movement on
foot to organize a new party to contest the election of many of us
who are gathered here tonight. The people want a change. They are
dissatisfied. They have a right to vote as they please, to choose their
own--"

"We are not here to discuss the election, Mr. Landover," broke in
Percival. "Before we go any farther, however, I wish to state that if
you are chosen Governor of Trigger Island, you will find no one more
willing and ready to serve you than I. But, that is beside the question.
If you will listen to me, I will tell you exactly what it is that
confronts us. The election next month is to be the signal for all kinds
of hell. You may be elected governor, Mr. Landover,--but you will not be
allowed to serve. Now, here is the story that came to me today,--and I
can vouch for it. I am authorized,--in fact I am commanded to reveal to
you the name of my informant. You may be sure I did my best to
prevail upon her to remain unknown, for the present, at least, but she
threatened to go forth and shout her story from the housetops if I did
not do as she wished."

The conference ended an hour later, and Abel Landover had shown his
true colours at last. He stood up, his face drawn and haggard, his eyes
ablaze, his voice husky, and addressed the group.

"Gentlemen, I have been wrong. I am grateful to Mr. Percival for his
generosity in warning me of the danger into which I was rushing. We have
not been friends. He could have left me to my fate. I would not have
blamed him. He has played fair,--and I have not. I ask you all to
bear witness to that humiliating admission. I have argued here tonight
against all of you,--when down in my heart I had the sickening fear
that this damnable story is true. I now believe it to be true. I now see
through the whole devilish game.

"I give you my word of honour as a gentleman and an American, I did not
realize the true conditions until tonight. Perhaps I might have found
out in time to upset their plans,--but that is doubtful. These men
are smart. They are natural born plotters. They are dark men with dark
souls. This fellow Fernandez has fooled me completely. He is a gay,
smiling boy, but now that I have heard Madame Obosky's account of him, I
recall many little traits in his make-up that go far to substantiate my
new opinion of him. I never qu