“Now begin at the very tip end of the beginning,” she commanded.

Kent had a sharp little tussle with his inborn reticence, thrust it to the wall and told a plain tale.

“It begins in a piece of reckless folly.  Shortly after I left Mrs. Brentwood’s last Thursday evening I had a curious experience.  The shortest way down-town is diagonally through the capitol grounds, but some undefinable impulse led me to go around on the Capitol Avenue side.  As I was passing the right wing of the building I saw lights in the governor’s room, and in a sudden fit of desperation resolved to go up and have it out with Bucks.  It was abnormally foolish, I’ll confess.  I had nothing definite to go on; but I—­well, I was keyed up to just about the right pitch, and I thought I might bluff him.”

“Mercy me!  You do need a guardian angel worse than anybody I know!” Portia cut in.  “Do go on.”

Kent nodded.

“I had one that night; angel or demon, whichever you please.  I was fairly dragged into doing what I did.  When I reached the upper corridor the door of the public anteroom was ajar, and I heard voices.  The outer room was not lighted, but the door between it and the governor’s private office was open.  I went in and stood in that open doorway for as much as five minutes, I think, and none of the four men sitting around the governor’s writing-table saw me.”

He had his small audience well in hand by this time, and Ormsby’s question was almost mechanical.  “Who were the four?”

“After the newspaper rapid-fire of this morning you might guess them all.  They were his Excellency, Grafton Hendricks, Rumford, and Senator Duvall.  They were in the act of closing the deal as I became an onlooker.  Rumford had withdrawn his application for a charter, and another ‘straw’ company had been formed with Duvall at its head.  I saw at once what I fancy Duvall never suspected; that he was going to be made the scapegoat for the ring.  They all promised to stand by him—­and you see how that promise has been kept.”

“Good heavens!” ejaculated Loring.  “What a despicable lot of scoundrels!  But the bribe:  did you learn anything about that?”

“I saw it,” said Kent, impressively.  “It was a slip of paper passed across the table by Rumford to Bucks, face down.  Bucks glanced at it before he thrust it into his pocket, and I had my glimpse, too.  It was a draft on a Chicago bank, but I could not read the figures, and I doubt if either of the other conspirators knew the amount.  Then the governor tossed a folded paper over to the oil man, saying, ’There is your deed to the choicest piece of property in all Gaston, and you’ve got it dirt cheap.’  I came away at that.”

Elinor’s sigh was almost a sob; but Miss Van Brock’s eyes were dancing.

“Go on, go on,” she exclaimed.  “That is only the beginning.”

Kent’s smile was of reminiscent weariness.