which the councillors emerged with smiling faces that men might not know
the misgivings in their hearts; councils, nevertheless, out of which
leaked rumours of dissension and recrimination conditions hitherto
unheard of. One post ran to meet another, and one messenger ran to meet
another; and it was even reported--though on doubtful authority--after
the rally in his town the Honourable Jacob Botcher had made the remark
that, under certain conditions, he might become a reformer.

None of these upsetting rumours, however, were allowed by Mr. Bascom and
other gentlemen close to the Honourable Adam B. Hunt to reach that
candidate, who continued to smoke in tranquillity on the porch of his
home until the fifteenth day of August. At eight o'clock that morning the
postman brought him a letter marked personal, the handwriting on which he
recognized as belonging to the Honourable Hilary Vane. For some reason,
as he read, the sensations of the Honourable Adam were disquieting; the
contents of the letter, to say the least, were peculiar. "To-morrow, at
noon precisely, I shall be driving along the Broad Brook road by the
abandoned mill--three miles towards Edmundton from Hull. I hope you will
find it convenient to be there."

These were the strange words the Honourable Hilary had written, and the
Honourable Adam knew that it was an order. At that very instant Mr. Hunt
had been reading in the Guardian the account of an overflow meeting in
Newcastle, by his opponent, in which Mr. Crewe had made some particularly
choice remarks about him; and had been cheered to the echo. The
Honourable Adam put the paper down, and walked up the street to talk to
Mr. Burrows, the postmaster whom, with the aid of Congressman Fairplay,
he had had appointed at Edmundton. The two racked their brains for three
hours; and Postmaster Burrows, who was the fortunate possessor of a pass,
offered to go down to Ripton in the interest of his liege lord and see
what was up. The Honourable Adam, however, decided that he could wait for
twenty-four hours.

The morning of the sixteenth dawned clear, as beautiful a summer's day
for a drive as any man could wish. But the spirit of the Honourable Adam
did not respond to the weather, and he had certain vague forebodings as
his horse jogged toward Hull, although these did not take such a definite
shape as to make him feel a premonitory pull of his coat-tails. The
ruined mill beside the rushing stream was a picturesque spot