They stopped at the jail to say good-by to North, and were then driven rapidly to the station.  The journey of about two hours seemed interminable, but they rarely spoke.  Elizabeth did not change the position she had assumed when they took their seats.  She leaned lightly against her father’s broad shoulder and her hands were clasped in her lap.

For weeks the situation had been absolutely pitiless.  Their wrecked efforts were at the door of every hope, and if this mission failed—­but it would not fail!  All they had come to ask was the life of an innocent man, and surely the governor, unaffected by local prejudice, must realize John North’s innocence.

It was two o’clock when they reached their destination, and as they left the car the general said: 

“We will go to the hotel first.  Either Judge Belknap will be there, or there will be some word for us.”

At the hotel they found, not Belknap, but a letter which he had left.  The governor was suffering from a slight indisposition and was confined to the house.  Belknap had made an appointment for him, and he would be expected.  The general crushed the sheet of paper between his fingers with weary impatience.

“We’ll see the governor at once.  I’ll call a carriage,” he said briefly.

Five minutes later, when they had left the hotel, Elizabeth asked: 

“What did Judge Belknap say?”

“Nothing, dear, nothing—­the matter remains just as it was.  The governor is expecting us.”

“What do you think, father?  This is our last hope.  Oh, do you realize that?”

She rested her hand on his arm.

“It’s going to be all right!” her father assured her.

Then there was silence between them until they drew up before the governor’s house.

Side by side they mounted the steps.  The general’s ring was answered by a man-servant, who took their cards after showing them into a small reception-room.  He returned after a moment to say that the governor was occupied and could not possibly see them until the afternoon.  The general’s face was blank.  He had never considered it possible that the governor would refuse to see him at his convenience.  Certainly there had been a time when no politician of his party in the state nor in the nation would have ventured this; but it was evident the last ten years had made a difference in his position.  Elizabeth gazed up fearfully into her father’s face.  What did this mean; was it merely a subterfuge on the governor’s part to avoid a painful interview?  Perhaps, after all, it would have been better had she remained at the hotel.  Her father read her thoughts.

“It’s all right—­be brave!” he whispered.  He turned to the servant.  “Will you kindly learn for me at what hour the governor will be at liberty?” he said stiffly.

“Oh, he must see us!” cried Elizabeth, the moment they were alone.

“Of course he must, and he will,” the general said.