ed to the right, where the car should be waiting her. It
was gone. Evidently the indignant Mrs. Brewster-Smith had expedited the
departure. Miss Eliot read her discomfiture.

"My car is right down here behind that palatial mansion with the hole
in the roof and the tin-can extension. Thank you very much for your
escort," she added, turning to the two representatives of the Protective
League. "My name, by the way, is E. Eliot. I am a real-estate agent and
my office is at 22 Braston Street. You might mention it in your report."

The little car stood waiting, surrounded by a group of admiring
children. Its owner stepped in briskly, backed around and received her
passengers.

"Well," she smiled as they drew out on the traveled highway, "how do you
like the purlieus of our noble little city?"

Genevieve was silent. Then she spoke with conviction.

"When George is in power--and he's _got_ to be--the Law will be the Law.
I know him."

CHAPTER XI. BY MARJORIE BENTON COOK

George Remington walked toward headquarters with more assurance than
he felt. He resented Doolittle's command that he appear at once. He was
beginning to realize the pressure which these campaign managers were
bringing to bear upon him. He was not sure yet how far he could go, in
out-and-out defiance of them and their dictates.

He knew that he had absolutely no ambitions, no interests in common with
these schemers, whose sole idea lay in party patronage, in manipulating
every political opportunity--in short, in reaping where they had sown.
The question now confronting him was this: was he prepared to sell his
political birthright for the mess of pottage they offered him?

He stood a second at the door of the office, peering through the
reeking, smoke-filled atmosphere, to get a bird's-eye view of the
situation before he entered.

Mr. Doolittle sat on the edge of a table monologuing to Wes' Norton and
Pat Noonan. Mr.

Norton was the president of the Whitewater Commercial Club, composed of
the leading merchants of the town, and Mr. Noonan was the apostle of the
liquor interests. Remington felt his back stiffen as he stepped among
them.

"Good-evening, gentlemen," he said briskly.

"H'are ye, George?" drawled Doolittle.

"There was something you wanted to discuss with me?"

"I dunno as there's anything to discuss, but there's a few things Wes'
an' Pat an' me'd like to say to ye. There ain't no two ways of thinkin'
about the prosperity o