c saw the
handwriting was Junia's, and he tore open the letter, which held the
blue certificate of the marriage with Luzanne. He conquered the sudden
dimness of his eyes, and read the letter. It said:

DEAR CARNAC,

I hear from Mr. Tarboe of the lies being told against you. Here is
the proof. She has gone. She told it to Barode Barouche, and he
was to have announced it last night, but I saw her first. You can
now deny the story. The game is yours. Tell the man Roudin to
produce the woman--she is now in New York, if the train was not
lost. I will tell you all when you are M.P.
JUNIA.

With a smile, Carnac placed the certificate in his pocket. How lucky
it was he had denied the marriage and demanded that Roudin produce
the woman! He was safe now, safe and free. It was no good any woman
declaring she was married to him if she could not produce the proof--and
the proof was in his pocket and the woman was in New York.

"Come, Monsieur Roudin, tell us about the woman, and bring her to the
polls. There is yet time, if you're telling the truth. Who is she? Where
does she live? What's her name?"

"Mrs. Carnac Grier--that's her name," responded Roudin with a snarl, and
the crowd laughed, for Carnac's boldness gave them a sense of security.

"What was her maiden name?"

"Larue," answered the other sharply.

"What was her Christian name, since you know so much, monsieur?"

He had no fear now, and his question was audacity, but he knew the game
was with him, and he took the risks. His courage had reward, for Roudin
made no reply. Carnac turned to the crowd.

"Here's a man tried to ruin my character by telling a story about a
woman whose name he doesn't know. Is that playing the game after the
rules--I ask you?"

There were cries from the crowd supporting him, and he grew bolder.
"Let the man tell his story and I'll meet it here face to face. I fear
nothing. Out with your story, monsieur. Tell us why you haven't brought
her into the daylight, why she isn't claiming her husband at the polls.
What's the story? Let's have it now."

The truth was, Roudin dared not tell what he knew. It was based wholly
on a talk he had partly overheard between Barode Barouche and Luzanne in
the house where she stayed and where he, Roudin, lodged. It had not been
definite, and he had no proofs. He was a sensationalist, and he had had
his hour and could say no more, because of Barode Barouche.