g the advantages and necessities of the desired
franchise with many words. She asked an occasional question, cautiously
and with apparent lack of intelligence, and even at the close of their
talk he doubted if she understood half of what he had been saying.

"You want to remember," he concluded, "that we have good men behind the
scheme. There is plenty of money, and we are prepared to put some of it
where it will do the most good."

He waited significantly, but she did not seem to understand. What could
be expected of a woman, in matters of this kind.

"As I said the other day, there will be a nice little slice of stock for
you,--and $20,000 besides for you, or for your pet charity," he urged,
to put the thing more plainly before her.

"But if we were to get found out?" she asked. "If it were to be
known--might we not get into trouble?"

"Huh! no danger of that," laughed Vickery. "The aldermen are all in
it--we can manage the common council--that is, if you come with us. And
Armstrong will be sure to come in, if you do."

"Hadn't I better talk this over with the chairman of the board of
aldermen?" asked Gertrude.

"You might," assented Vickery. "Still,--in matters of this kind, it is
better to do as little talking as possible."

"But how am I to be sure they are in it?" The Mayor seemed to hesitate.
"I do not want to do any unnecessary talking--but how do I know this is
not all a trap, to catch me?"

"More astute than I gave her credit for being," said Vickery to himself.
Then aloud:

"My dear lady!--but I realize your position--yes, and I respect it. If I
give you proof, actual figures,--will you believe me then?"

"Yes, I'll believe you then," said Gertrude.

"Then suppose I come again this afternoon," urged the man. "I'll have
the memoranda of the figures with me."

"Very well. Come at three," answered Gertrude. "I will have the way
clear by then."

And Vickery departed, well satisfied with his half-hour's work. But when
he had gone, Gertrude sent for Mary Snow, and they had a long talk
together.

At three, promptly as the clocks were chiming out the hour, Orlando
Vickery presented himself, and was ushered into the Mayor's private
office.

"Well, I'm here," he said. "We are alone, of course?" He walked over to
a curtained doorway, and drew aside the draperies. The stenographer's
office was disclosed--empty. He remembered having seen her in the outer
office as he came through.

"Pardon me," he a