winds that storm in from the Golden Gate to assault Nob Hill, and no answering echo would you awake.  But give to its illustrious bearer his familiar title; speak but the words “Certina Charley” within the precincts of the nation’s capital and the very asphalt would find a viscid voice wherewith to acclaim the joke, while Senate would answer House, and Department reply to Bureau with the curses of the stung ones.  For Mr. Belford Couch was least loved where most laughed at.

From the nature of his profession this arose.  His was a singular career.  He pursued the fleeting testimonial through the mazy symptoms of disease (largely imaginary) and cure (wholly mythical).  To extract from the great and shining ones of political life commendations of Certina; to beguile statesmen who had never tasted that strange concoction into asseverating their faith in the nostrum’s infallibility for any and all ailments; to persuade into fulsome print solemnly asinine Senators and unwarily flattered Congressmen—­that was the touchstone of his living.  Some the Demon Rum betrayed into his hands.  Others he won by sheer personal persuasiveness, for he was a master of the suave plea.  Again, political favors or “inside information” made those his debtors from whom he exacted and extracted the honor of their names for Dr. Surtaine’s upholding.  Blackmail, even, was hinted at.  “What does it matter?” thought the deluded or oppressed victim.  “Merely a line of meaningless indorsement to sign my name to.”  And within a fortnight advertising print, black and looming, would inform the reading populace of the whole country that “United States Senator Gull says of Certina:  ’It is, in my opinion, unrivaled as a never-failing remedy for coughs and colds,’” with a picture, coarse-screen, libelously recognizable.

Certina Charley was not a testimonial-chaser alone.  Had he been, Dr. Surtaine would not have retained him at a generous salary, but would have paid him, as others of his strange species are paid, by the piece; one hundred dollars for a Representative, two hundred and fifty dollars for a Senator, and as high as five hundred for a hero conspicuous in the popular eye.  The special employee of Certina was a person of diverse information and judicious counsel.  His chief had not incorrectly described him as the diplomat of the trade.

No small diplomacy had been required for the planning of the Emergency Committee scheme, the details of which Mr. Couch had worked out, himself.  It was, as he boasted to Dr. Surtaine, “a clincher.”

“Look out for the medicos,” he had said to Dr. Surtaine in outlining his great idea.  “They’re mean to handle.  You can always buy or bluff a newspaper, but a doctor is different.  Some of ’em you can grease, but they’re the scrubs.  The real fellers won’t touch money, and the worst of ’em just seem to love trouble.  Merritt’s that kind.  But we can fix Merritt by raising twenty or thirty thousand dollars and handing it over to him to organize his