a political majority in the convention
against him. So the handsome Judge, with his matrimonial parade to give
daily, his political fortunes to consider every hour, and withal, a
court to hold, and a judicial serenity to maintain, was a busy young
man--a rather more than passing busy young man!

As for the Doctor, he threw himself into the contest against Van Dorn
with no mixed motives. "There," quoth the Doctor, to the wide world
including his own henchmen, yeomen, heralds, and outriders, "is one
hound pup I am going to teach house manners!" And failing to break Van
Dorn's alliance in the courthouse, and failing to bulldoze Daniel Sands
out of a secret liaison with Van Dorn, failing to punish those of his
courthouse friends who permitted Van Dorn to stand with them on their
convention tickets in the primary, the Doctor went forth with his own
primary ticket, and announced that he proposed to beat Van Dorn in the
convention single handed and alone.

And so quiet are the wheels of our government, that few heard them
grinding during the spring and early summer--few except the little
coterie of citizens who pay attention to the details of party politics.
Yet underneath and over the town, and through the very heart of it
wherever the web of the spider went, there was a cruel rending. Two men
with hate in their hearts were pulling at the web, wrenching its
filaments, twisting it out of shape, ripping its texture, in a desperate
struggle to control the web, and with that control to govern the people.

Then Dr. Nesbit pushed his way into the very nest of the spider, and
bolted into Daniel Sands's office to register a final protest against
Sands's covert alliance with the Judge. He plunked angrily into the den
of the spider, shut the door, turned the spring lock, and looking around
saw not Sands, but Van Dorn himself.

The Doctor burst out: "Well, young man! So you're here, eh!" Van Dorn
nodded pleasantly, and replied graciously: "Yes, Doctor, here I am, and
I believe we have met here before--at one time or another."

The Doctor sat down and slapping a fat hand on a chair arm, cried
angrily: "Thomas, it can't be did--you can't cut 'er."

Judge Van Dorn answered blandly, rather patronizingly: "Yes, Dr. Jim, it
can be done. And I shall do it."

"Have you let 'em fool you--the fellows on the street?" asked the
Doctor.

Judge Van Dorn tapped on the desk beside him meditatively, then answered
slowly: "No--I should say they