When the younger brother had finished, he also seemed to have expended his strength in the effort he had made, and he sat limp and despondent.  The elder brother, on the contrary, appeared to recover his strength by a vigorous effort of the will.  He stood up.  He walked straight before his brother and looked down upon him with his penetrating blue eyes.

“Elk MacNair,” he said, “tell me—­by our common origin, solemnly, truthfully, and on your honor, tell me—­will this claim stand the test of full investigation?  Is it right?”

“Arthur,” said the younger, feebly, “under that appeal I must speak truthfully.  The claim is irregular; perhaps it has been paid already.  There is no time for investigation.  I have stocked the cards, and the trick must be taken at once or never.  You have this alternative.  I can take you off that committee, and I have a man in reversion who will get the post and pass the claim.”

The stature of Arthur MacNair seemed to expand, and he became the positive spirit of the room.

“Not so,” he said; “it shall not pass, Elk MacNair, neither by my help nor by any other man’s!  You have acknowledged to me that there is no justice in this thing.  You have made me a party to a fraud.  You shall know that the only oath I came here to take is that of allegiance to the interests of the country.  No brotherhood, no sympathy, no ambition, no pity, nothing shall be able to swerve me from my full duty.”

“What would you do, fanatic?” cried Elk MacNair.

“I will denounce that claim upon the floor of Congress, and couple with the denunciation the story of this infamous proposal you have made to a member of Congress.”

The younger brother gave a laugh.

“What nonsense, Arthur,” he said.  “If you expect to find any large class of Americans who will appreciate such heroism, exhibited at the sacrifice of your own blood and family, you do not know your countrymen in these days.  The only men who deal in sentiment in our time are demagogues, who never feel it.  A sneer will go up from all the circles of the capital, from all the presses of the land, at a man who seeks, in a political age, to play the part of the elder Brutus.”

“Miserable, lost, dishonored man!” said Arthur MacNair.  “In the valleys of my State, in the quiet farming districts all through the Union, among the hard-working, the penurious, and the plain—­such as you and your class despise—­there are armies of men who would rise and march upon this capital if they appreciated the whole of the scene in which you have figured to-day!  You would steal the money of the people that you may buy a character and a position among your countrymen.  Shame upon the man who would defend the acquisition of such booty to wed the woman he loves.”

Every word which Arthur MacNair had uttered, and most of all the last, cut like a knife into the pride of Elk MacNair.

“I thought I was pleading with my brother,” he said hoarsely, “not to a stone.  I shall say no more.  I have placed myself in your power.  Remember this:  if my point is not carried within three days, or if it be balked by your interference, I will blow out my brains.  I have walked to the door of hell on the battle-field, and I can go further.”