re as anywhere. Only come to the conclusion
that a thing _must_ be done, and it is half finished already. You have only
to make up your mind that you will accomplish a design in spite of
obstacles, and what you once thought to be insurmountable difficulties will
prove mere straws in your path. But we are wasting time; I've determined
you shall do it, and I hope you now know me well enough to be convinced
that it is your best policy to be as obliging as possible. You had better
go now, and be prepared to meet me to-night at Whitticar's."

After the door closed upon the retreating form of McCloskey, the careless
expression that Mr. Stevens's countenance had worn during the conversation,
gave place to one full of anxiety and apprehension, and he shuddered as he
contemplated the fearful length to which he was proceeding.

"If I fail," said he--"pshaw! I'll not fail--I must not fail--for failure
is worse than ruin; but cool--cool," he continued, sitting down to his
desk--"those who work nervously do nothing right." He sat writing
uninterruptedly until quite late in the afternoon, when the fading sunlight
compelled him to relinquish his pen, and prepare for home.

Thrusting the papers into his pocket, he hurried toward the newspaper
office from which were to emanate, as editorials, the carefully concocted
appeals to the passions of the rabble which he had been all the afternoon
so busily engaged in preparing.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Mr. Stevens falls into Bad Hands.

The amiable partner of Mr. Stevens sat in high dudgeon, at being so long
restrained from her favourite beverage by the unusually deferred absence of
her husband. At length she was rejoiced by hearing his well-known step as
he came through the garden, and the rattle of his latch-key as he opened
the door was quite musical in her ears.

"I thought you was never coming," said she, querulously, as he entered the
room; "I have been waiting tea until I am almost starved."

"You needn't have waited a moment, for you will be obliged to eat alone
after all; I'm going out. Pour me out a cup of tea--I'll drink it whilst
I'm dressing; and," continued Mr. Stevens, "I want you to get me that old
brown over-coat and those striped trowsers I used to wear occasionally."

"Why, you told me," rejoined Mrs. Stevens, "that you did not require them
again, and so I exchanged them for this pair of vases to-day."

"The devil you did!" said Mr. Stevens, angrily; "you let them lie