“What does the governor say about it?”

“Say?” laughed Dickson.  “Why, I asked him if he would approve the measure and he said ‘No!’ That’s the beginning and the end of his discourse—­a ‘No’ long drawn out.”

The door opened abruptly, and Rann put out his head.  “Will you step in here, Mr. Galt?” he asked, and his voice was husky with anger.  “With pleasure, my dear Major,” responded Galt easily, as he crossed the threshold and closed the door after him.  “I am always at your service as a peacemaker.”

The governor was standing before his desk, his eyes upon Rann, who faced him, red and trembling.  Galt had seen Burr wear this impassive front before, and it had always meant trouble.  His eyes were opaque and leaden, his face as expressionless as a mask.  He was motionless save for the movement of one hand that drummed upon the desk.  “If you possess any influence with the governor,” said Rann to Galt, “will you tell him that his course is ruinous—­ruinous to imbecility?  If he thinks I am going to throw away a winter’s work on that bill he’s mistaken his man.  It’s taken me the whole session to get that measure through the legislature, and I’m not going to have it defeated now by any crack-brained moralist.  He’ll sign that bill or—­”

Burr spoke at last.  “Am I the governor of this State or are you?” he thundered.  His face did not change, but his powerful voice rang to the full.

Rann gave an ugly little sneer, his cheek purpling.  “I may not be governor, but I made you so,” he retorted.

“Your mistake, my dear Major, was that you neglected to create him in your own likeness,” put in Galt coolly.

“By the people’s will I am governor, and governor I’ll be,” said Nicholas grimly; “as for this bill you speak of, I might have saved you the trouble of working for your pitiable majority.  Since you have seen fit to deride my motive, it is sufficient for me to say that the measure will not become a law over my opposition, and I shall oppose it to the death.”

Rann was shaking on his short legs and his hands were trembling.  “So you defy me, do you, Governor?” he demanded.

“Defy you?” the governor laughed shortly, “I don’t trouble to defy you.  I laugh at you—­the whole lot of you who come to cozen me with party promises.  So long as I spoke your speech and did your bidding I might have the senatorship for the asking.  I was honest Nick Burr, though I might belie my convictions at every step.  So long as I wore the collar of your machine upon my neck my honesty was the hall-mark of the party.  Where is my honesty, the first instant that I dare to stand against you?  Defy you?  Pshaw!  You aren’t worth defying!”

“Hold on!” said Galt hastily.  “Nick, for God’s sake, leave our friend alone.  You’re both good fellows—­too good to quarrel—­”

“Oh, there’s no use,” protested Rann, wiping his flaming brow.  “I’ve offered a dozen compromises—­but compromise I won’t without that bill.  Bear witness that I’ve upheld him from the start.  I’d have run him for the presidency itself if I’d had the power, and when I ask a little friendly return he talks about his damned duty.  But I tell you, he’s signed his own warrant.  He’s as dead in this State as if his grave was dug.  He’s held his last office in the Democratic Party.”