law without the sanction of the man who therein sits enthroned by reason of his great ability to minister to other men's greediness. The vicious hypocrisy is potent, and yet it endures.

When Glen came to the State capital the morning of the day upon which the Legislature by law was to convene, he came alone, a stranger in a strange city.

He went, as he had been directed, to the Eagle Hotel, the famous hostelry of the Capital city which, for two generations had been the headquarters of politicians and whose ancient walls, if they might speak, could tell a history of intrigue, political scheming and chicanery, which would put the egotistical descendants of many a vaunted statesman to blush. He found the corridor filled with men, tobacco smoke and the sound of rife discussion, and as he made his way to the office desk his tall young form was conspicious in the gathering.

He was pointed out by some who knew him, as one of the new members, a young fellow who came from the district where Burland lived, one who had made a stir in his section and who was an uncertain quantity in general, being a product of the political unrest which was affecting the entire State.

He was assigned to a room and, after registering, he sought out Major Terrill, who had his quarters on an upper floor. When he entered the room he was at once recognized by one of the independent workers and introduced to those standing by as "that young colt from over Stonestead way, who had kicked over the traces and with whom the machine leaders were experiencing some difficulty in an attempt to hitch him to the administration bandwagon."

In shaking hands all round some one remarked to Glen: "So you are looking for honor, too, eh?"

"Well, just at present I'm looking for his honor, Major Terrill," replied Glen, and the reply evoked laughter, during which a bulky form stepped from behind a screen at the window and the genial old attorney and former

County Judge came slowly across to greet his young friend, a volume in one hand, a stub finger between the pages as a marker and his glasses, over, instead of through which his inscrutably deep eyes twinkled jovially, tilted on his Roman nose.

"That reminds me of a little story," said the Major, removing the glasses and tapping Glen's shoulder with their steel rims. "A young chap up in Coos and his lady love were attending a protracted prayer meeting at the village church. Getting there late they found the edifice filled, but a gentleman arose and gave the lady his seat, while the young man was ushered away to a seat far down forward. The service grew warm and impressive. 'Will those who want our prayers please stand,' said the preacher. At this juncture the young man thought it was getting late and that he would get his sweetheart and go homeward, but not just knowing where she was seated he rose to his feet and looked over the audience. The good pastor smiled benignly down at him, and said: 'Young man, are you seeking salvation?' To which the young man responded: 'No, sir, I'm seeking Sal Tomkins."

"Well," said the Judge, adjusting his glasses, and looking sternly over them at his laughing auditors, "this won't do. We'd better get over to the State House and see how the fat-frying is going on."

When the little company of outlaws arrived at the capitol building its ancient and lofty-pillared corridors were echoing with the tramp and Babel-like voices of men. Pages were skurrying about, clerks with officious documents were diving in and out of the several chambers and large-waisted men with large-waisted cigars between between their lips were the centres of scattered groups of less pompous individuals, all discussing the pros and cons of the pregnant legislative session.

A page approached Glen as he was removing his overshoes and asked him if he was "the gentleman from Stonehead." Upon being informed that he

hailed from that town, the lad said, in a whisper, that "the Boss would like to see you in the Sheriff's office."

Glen smiled. "Tell Mr. Carpenter," said he to the boy, "that I am busy, the House being about to convene, but that if he desires to see me I will be in the committee-room at the noon recess."

The page looked incredulous. No such message of refusal had ever been transmitted within his knowledge to the State Boss upon his request, which was equivalent to an order, that he desired to see a member in his office. But as Glen moved off to the entrance into the House and gave no token that his answer was other than sincere and final, the boy sped away, filled with a new importance.

When he entered the presence of Justin Carpenter, who sat surrounded by his retinue of servile lieutenants, he delivered his message breathlessly and then waited in silence, others in the room eyeing one another askance and pausing in conversation to note the effect on their chief of the exceptional rejoinder.

No shade of annoyance or other testament of his feelings showed upon the great man's stolid features. He was too good a general of himself and of other men to permit that. He continued uninterrupted to read the letter he held in his hand, chewing the end of an unlighted cigar between his massive jaws.

Finally he said: "Tell Marston I want him," and even the atmosphere of the chamber surcharged with the moment of his calmly spoken order.

The "Marston" referred to was none other than the Lieutenant Governor of the State, President of the Senate and designated by law equal with the Governor himself, His Excellency.

The Lieutenant Governor, also, was designated by statute chairman, exofficio, of the Returning Board, a commission of high State officials created to have the final and decisive counting of all ballots cast in general elections for the State officers. The town clerks certify to the Secretary of State the

count of ballots as made on the night of election by the poll officials, but that count is not, in reality, official. The conclusive results are obtained only after the ballots have gone under the hands of the members of the Returning Board.

Ordinarily the sessions of this board were quite perfunctory, and, in general, the count of the poll wardens is accepted as sufficiently accurate and final. The members of the Board met regularly, after each election, as in duty bound, and, at the rate of compensation of seven dollars per day, levied upon the State treasury for several weeks dilatory employment. Little public interest, however, was ordinarily centred in the result of their labors. This year, however, owing to changes in the ordinary political status, and the number of unusual contests and party cleavage in many of the electoral districts, none the less, it may be hazarded, as a result of the excuse thereby afforded for extraordinary assault upon the State treasury, the sitting of the Returning Board had been prolonged. All through the month it had continued in session, and even now, with the Legislature about to convene, its arduous labors had not been concluded.

As the count of the towns was taken in alphabetical order, Stonestead, the third from the last on the roll, had not yet been reached.

It was scarcely a minute after the page sent to summon Marston had disappeared on his errand, when the Lieutenant Governor made his appearance, smirking and bowing to those present, and stood before The Boss deferentially.

For a moment the manipulator of men, who happened to be writing, scratched on with his pen, the grating of its stub point over the linen paper the only sound in the room. Presently he said, without looking up:

"A-, Marston. Has the Board reached Stonehead yet in the count?"

"No; not yet," replied the Chairman of the Board, pulling one of his grey side-whiskers nervously.

He was president of the bank in his town and quite a body when at home. Answering calls and cooling his heels while waiting was not ordinary with him, but he knew his indebtedness to the man who had summoned him and answered his question as one knowing his master.

"In fact," he continued, "we've only got down to Moultonville. It's been quite a complicated count this year." "Yes," remarked the Boss, and was silent, and none of those listening could say in what spirit it had been uttered. Presently the grating of the pen ceased.

"See me after adjournment," said the Boss, looking up for the first time during the interview, piercing the little man before him with the penetrating glance of his calm, gray eyes. "And, Marston," as the Lieutenant Governor was turning away, "see to it that none of the other members go out of town, We may want some counting done-expeditiously."

Eye met eye in cautious inquiry amongst the several political workers and trusty subordinates lounging about the room. They were men well versed in party politics of the sort termed practical, astute men according to their lights, and they knew intuitively that this calling of Marston from his post as presiding officer of the senate, the inquiries made of him in relation to the count, as affecting the home town of the young representative who had sent back such an unheard-of reply to the Leader's demand for an interview, and, the orders given for the members to hold themselves in readiness, meant something of special import, and their fertile brains were busy devising what it might be.

The Boss had not fully believed that Glen would answer his summons. He had taken pains to observe the representative from Stonestead from afar on more than one occasion, and, being an exceedingly shrewd judge of men, as was necessary to his success, he had drawn his own conclusions regarding Glen's independence of spirit. The Boss had simply decided that the time

had arrived when he should know his man positively, and had requested an interview as a tentative procedure to that end.

The remainder of the day was taken up in organizing both branches of the Legislature, electing officers, announcing standing committees, and early in the afternoon adjournment was taken until the following day.

CHAPTER XXVI.

It would have been a toss-up in the mind of a stranger dropped down suddenly in the capital city of the State the following morning, who chanced to read impartially all the several local papers and those others which came in on early trains from far places, whose special reporters were on the spot, whether the young man, Glen Noble, whose name was so conspiciously mentioned in story and dispatch, had wakened to find himself famous or infamous.

The staunch administration organs, subsidized by political preferment, fat advertising contracts, railroad passes, or other or all of these inducements to a biased statement of the situation, reviled him with venom and double leads. They called him a "Judas," an "Arnold to the party"; they said he was a visionary young man, elected by a fluke, who had set himself up as better than his party on a pinnacle of reform and was posing in the limelight of publicity to gratify his vanity. The more extreme journals hinted strongly that he was insincere and was prepared to stand out for a bribe or promise of larger office.

The independent Republican newspapers, and those of Democratic proclivity which alligned themselves with the fusion element, hailed him, on the contrary, as a composite hero, each after his own manner and degree of partisanship.

Major Terrill was just coming down the broad main stairway of the hotel, on his way to breakfast, when a man came hurriedly in through the outer vestibule and accosted him. The two

talked in an undertone for a few moments, and bystanders noticed that the usual kindly expression on the face of the old attorney changed to a hardened look, while his features flushed, as if in anger. "The skunks, would they dare try it?" he was overheard to exclaim. His companion, it was apparent, was laboring under a stress of excitement, and when the Major turned to retrace his way to his room, forgetful of his breakfast, he followed him, evidently explaining some absorbing matter.

Soon messengers were noticed on their way after other adherents of the anti-machine faction and rumor flew that something of an untoward, if not highly sensational, nature was brewing, Well-known opponents of the Boss and administration methods came hurriedly into the hotel lobby and were directed to the room occupied by the Major, wherein he and Glen and several of their friends were already closeted.

Thanks to the gratuitous advertising which the political situation with relation to the senatorial contest had received in the papers, throngs of people began flocking into the city early from nearby towns and outlying districts, and soon they also were inbued with the prevailing sentiment that something portentious was about to happen.

Amongst others, Constance and several of her school companions were driven over from Westborough, chaperoned by one of the lady teachers of the seminary, the faculty availing the seniors of the school of the nearby opportunity to gain a knowledge of legislative methods, which, ordinarily, they studied only in the abstract and theoretically.

In the meantime excitement in what was transpiring behind the scenes increased amongst the on-lookers, and the very air seemed electrified with suspense. Rumor, denial and reassertion traversed from tongue to tongue. No one appeared to know anything definite, nor, indeed, what really had started the sudden commotion. Like news of war and pestilence it traversed space unaided.

When Glen entered the chamber of the House, he was the centre of much observation. As he made his way down the aisle to his seat he did not glance up to the gallery, and, therefore, missed seeing two brown eyes bent upon him which would have been as a baptism of balm and courage in his hour of need.

He had met Major Terrill on the stairway as he came in. The old lawyer wore a look of fury on his brow. "They're going to try it, Glen," he said, laying a kindly hand on the younger man's broad shoulder. "The hounds! It'll mean revolution and all law-abiding men in arms against 'em if they succeed, but they're bent on putting the election through and will scruple at nothing. The returning board had just adjourned. I've sent for Judge Staples, but he's out of town. If we can get to another Supreme Court Judge before they break their damn political necks over the precipice, we'll get a peremptory injunction and save the old State the disgrace, but the time's mighty short. Keep 'em, boy, as long as you can and we'll do the best we're able," and the old jurist dove down the steps with the agility of youth, his regard for the fortunes of his young friend in one balance, his love for the honor of his State in the other.

The assembly was called to order. with evident haste. The grey-haired chaplain was bundled onto the speaker's platform and off with the opening and the closing words of his benediction still on his lips. Roll was called and the first order of business was called for.

"A report from the Committee of the Whole on Elections," announced the chairman of that committee.

"A report from the Committee of the Whole on Elections," mimicked the Honorable Speaker. "The clerk will read the report."

A silence as of death was in the chamber. Every one within the great room was strained to the utmost to hear and see. Not a sound broke the hush save the crackle of paper as the

clerk unfolded the communication and prepared to read.

CHAPTER XXVII.

As the Clerk of the House rose in his place and proceeded to read the report of the Returning Board, the last court of appeal, as it were, of the ballot, an audible indrawing of breaths sounded over the assemblage; nerves relaxed and people sank back in their seats and almost felt a sigh of relief from gallery to floor. Neighbor looked at neighbor and smiled. The fuse of expectancy had burned down, and nothing had occurred.

Like an ingenious automaton the clerk mouthed the jargon of technical phrases of the formal report, and lower and lower his monotonous voice fell under dominion of the droning rise and casual converse, growing louder, as more on-lookers lost interest and settled back comfortably in their seats or turned to neighbors for exchange of sentiments.

Of a sudden, a word, through no changed inflection in the reader's voice, caught the plastic mind of some gallery on-looker and he bent quickly forward toward the speaker's desk. As the music calms, then ceases at soft contact of the felted hammer on the vibrating strings of a pianoforte, so, swiftly, the silence, as though the staying hand of a mighty player ran round the throng, swept over the floor and gallery, and again the great audience to the little drama drew tense, and silently gaped to learn what it was that had so mysteriously impressed them.

"And we further find," the clerk was droning, "that in the Town of Stonestead one hundred and seven imperfect ballots were cast, which were wrongfully counted by the wardens to the credit of one Glen Noble, Independent-Republican, which, by reason of their imperfections should have been thrown out, resulting in a majority of three for Hollis, the regular Republican nominee.

"And we beg leave to report"-the sing-song voice of the clerk was going

on, but like the surge of surf and sudden break of storm following hard upon the silence that portends a summer's gale, pandemonium broke loose. in the galleries and for a moment cries, hisses, cat-calls, stampings and loud exclamations of approval, triumph and of denunciation, filled the great chamber in pulsing conflict.

The speaker hammered with his gavel with the vigor of a boiler riveter under the gaze of his section boss. The sergeant-at-arms strode up and down the aisle, red-faced and impotent, and members sawed the air vertically and criss-cross with their arms and bellowed for recognition.

For a few moments it was as far from that "peacful conclave" to which the chaplain had referred during his meteoric passage up and down the steps of the speaker's rostrum a few moments ago, as the Court of Love from Bedlam.

It was only when the Law's uniformed officers made their appearance in the gallery that there was appreciable calm, and then could be heard the unbroken drone of the imperturbable clerk, still reading: "all of which is respectfully submitted," and then followed the names of the members, "members of the State Returning Board."

Instantly, upon conclusion of the reading of the report, a member in a front seat was recognized by the chair and with the celerity of preconceived scheming his motion to approve was made and adopted.

Men on the opposition side of the chamber were standing like animated exclamation points, clamoring for recognition by the speaker, but that welltutored worthy had, to all intent and purpose, been suddenly striken deaf and blind and could see no one. Again a babel of sound was rising in the gallery and the conflict of voices, the slamming of the gavel and the thud of hurrying feet up and down the aisles echoed up into the vaulted ceiling.

The floor leader of the administration rose in his place and for a brief moment the strange affliction of the