hen they hear I'm coming
into a town to speak, and the local politicians give out notices only a
day before, and only to the voters they want in the caucus. In Hull the
other day, out of a population of two thousand, twenty men elected four
delegates for the railroad candidate."

"It is corruption!" cried the baron, who had no idea who Victoria was,
and a very slim notion of what Mr. Crewe was talking about.

"Corruption!" said Mr. Crewe. "What can you expect when a railroad owns a
State? The other day in Britain, where they elect fourteen delegates, the
editor of a weekly newspaper printed false ballots with two of my men at
the top and one at the bottom, and eleven railroad men in the middle.
Fortunately some person with sense discovered the fraud before it was too
late."

"You don't tell me!" said the baron.

"And every State and federal office-holder has been distributing passes
for the last three weeks."

"Pass?" repeated the baron. "You mean they fight with the fist--so? To
distribute a pass--so," and the baron struck out at an imaginary enemy.
"It is the American language. I have read it in the prize-fight. I am
told to read the prize-fight and the base-ball game."

Mr. Crewe thought it obviously useless to continue this conversation.

"The railroad," said the baron, "he is the modern Machiavelli."

"I say," Mr. Rangely, the Englishman, remarked to Victoria, "this is a
bit rough on you, you know."

"Oh, I'm used to it," she laughed.

"Mr. Crewe," said Mrs. Pomfret, to the table at large, "deserves
tremendous credit for the fight he has made, almost single-handed. Our
greatest need in this country is what you have in England, Mr. Rangely,
--gentlemen in politics. Our country gentlemen, like Mr. Crewe, are now
going to assume their proper duties and responsibilities." She laid her
napkin on the table and glanced at Alice as she continued: "Humphrey, I
shall have to appoint you, as usual, the man of the house. Will you take
the gentlemen into the library?"

Another privilege of celebrity is to throw away one's cigar, and walk out
of the smoking room if one is bored. Mr. Crewe was, in a sense, the host.
He indicated with a wave of his hand the cigars and cigarettes which Mrs.
Pomfret had provided, and stood in a thoughtful manner before the empty
fireplace, with his hands in his pockets, replying in brief sentences to
the questions of Mr. Chillingham and the others. To tell the truth, Mr.
Crewe was bring