“Are you never—­afraid of the outcome?” asked Conniston.

“I believe in God, Mr. Conniston.  I believe in my work.  I believe in myself.  We are not going to fail.”

In that one brief, fleeting second Conniston had a view of John Crawford he had never glimpsed before.  He made no reply.  For a moment there was complete silence, broken after a little by Hapgood’s voice from the dining-room.  Mr. Crawford, walking composedly back and forth, drawing thoughtfully at his cigar, gave no evidence of so much as hearing the low-toned voice.  To Conniston, who thought that he could guess what it was that had put the pleading note into the guarded tones, the words came in an indistinguishable murmur.  Conniston, having no desire to play the part of eavesdropper, strolled out upon the porch.

It was only a moment later when the door which he had softly closed behind him was thrown violently open, and Roger Hapgood, his hat crushed in his hand, hastened out, ran down the steps, and with no word of farewell disappeared into the darkness.  Conniston gazed after him in wonderment a moment, and then turned toward the open door behind him.

Argyl had come into the room, her face flushed, her eyes bright with anger.  Mr. Crawford, looking up from his papers, was saying, quietly: 

“What is it, Argyl?  What is the matter with Hapgood?”

“I told him to go,” she cried, hotly.  “I told him never to speak to me again, never to come into this house!”

Mr. Crawford stroked his chin thoughtfully.

“For good and sufficient reasons, Argyl dear?” he asked, gently.

“Yes.  And—­and I slapped his face, too!”

A little smile rippled across her father’s face.

“Then I am sure that the reason was good and sufficient.  And I shall take pleasure in horsewhipping the little man for you, dear, if you wish.”

Argyl ran to him and threw her arms about his neck.

“God bless you, daddy!” she cried, softly.  “I just love you to death.  And,” holding him away from her and smiling brightly at him, “I don’t think that it is necessary.  I slapped him hard!”

Conniston came back into the room.

Argyl was speaking swiftly, emphatically.  “Mr. Hapgood has just done me the honor to ask me to marry him.  He told me that he had acquainted Mr. Conniston with his intentions, so it is no secret.  No, I did not slap him for that.  But you, father, and you, too, Mr. Conniston, since you are one of us in our work, ought both to know what he threatened.  He says that we are upon the very brink of failure; that Swinnerton has almost sufficient strength to ruin us and our hopes.  And he threatened, if I did not marry him, to turn his back upon us and join the opposition.  And I slapped his face.”

Mr. Crawford took her hand and kissed it.

“I can think of no more forceful answer you could have made him, Argyl girl.  Fortunately, I have not confided in him to any dangerous extent.  He knows—­”