t
patronage, without a cent I could call my own, I put my wares on the
market. I became Governor of Virginia in spite of everything you did, or
did not do, to prevent it." There was a strange effectiveness in the
simplicity of the man's speech. It was natural; it was racy; it was like
nothing that Stephen had ever heard before. He wondered if it could be
traced back to the phraseology of the circus? "Of course you think I am
an extremist," concluded Gideon Vetch abruptly, "but before you are as
old as I am you will have learned that the only way to get half a loaf
is to ask for a whole one. Come again, and I'll talk to you."

"Yes, I'll come again," Stephen answered, and he knew that he should.
Whether he willed it or not he would be drawn back by the Governor's
irresistible influence. The man had aroused in him an intense, a
devouring curiosity. He wanted to know his thoughts and his life, the
mystery of his birth, of his upbringing, of his privations and denials.
Above all he wanted to know why he had succeeded, what peculiar gift had
brought him out of obscurity, and had given him the ability to use men
and circumstances as if they were tools in his hands.

When the young man ran down the steps there was a pleasant excitement
tingling in his veins, as if he were feeling the glow of forbidden wine.
Turning beside the fountain, he glanced back as the Governor was closing
the door, and in his vision of the lighted interior he saw Patty Vetch
darting airily across the hall. So it was nothing more than a hoax! She
hadn't hurt herself in the least. She had merely made a laughing-stock
of him for the amusement doubtless of her obscure acquaintances! For an
instant anger held him motionless; then turning quickly he walked
rapidly past the fountain to the open gate.

The snow was dimly lighted on the long slope to the library; and
straight ahead, in the circle beneath the statue of Washington, the
bronze silhouette of a great Virginian stood sharply cut against the
luminous haze of the street. From the chimney-stack of a factory near
the river a wreath of gray smoke was flung over the tree-tops, where it
broke and drifted in feathery garlands. Across the road a group of three
trees was delicately etched, with each separate branch and twig, on the
slate-coloured evening sky.

He had passed through the gate when a voice speaking suddenly at his
side caused him to start and stop short in his walk. A moment before he
had fanc