III

THE Governor stared at the card with a frown.  Half an hour had elapsed since his wife had gone upstairs to dress for the big dinner from which official duties excused him, and he was still lingering over the fire before preparing for his own solitary meal.  He expected no one that evening but his old friend Hadley Shackwell, with whom it was his long-established habit to talk over his defeats and victories in the first lull after the conflict; and Shackwell was not likely to turn up till nine o’clock.  The unwonted stillness of the room, and the knowledge that he had a quiet evening before him, filled the Governor with a luxurious sense of repose.  The world seemed to him a good place to be in, and his complacency was shadowed only by the fear that he had perhaps been a trifle over-harsh in refusing his wife’s plea for the stenographer.  There seemed, therefore, a certain fitness in the appearance of the man’s card, and the Governor with a sigh gave orders that Gregg should be shown in.

Gregg was still the soft-stepping scoundrel who invited the toe of honesty, and Mornway, as he entered, was conscious of a sharp revulsion of feeling.  But it was impossible to evade the interview, and he sat silent while the man stated his case.

Mrs. Mornway had represented the stenographer as being in desperate straits, and ready to accept any job that could be found, but though his appearance might have seemed to corroborate her account, he evidently took a less hopeless view of his case, and the Governor found with surprise that he had fixed his eye on a clerkship in one of the Government offices, a post which had been half promised him before the incident of the letters.  His plea was that the Governor’s charge, though unproved, had so injured his reputation that he could only hope to clear himself by getting some sort of small job under the Administration.  After that, it would be easy for him to obtain any employment he wanted.

He met Mornway’s refusal with civility, but remarked after a moment:  “I hadn’t expected this, Governor.  Mrs. Mornway led me to think that something might be arranged.”

The Governor’s tone was brief.  “Mrs. Mornway is sorry for your wife and children, and for their sake would be glad to find work for you, but she could not have led you to think that there was any chance of your getting a clerkship.”

“Well, that’s just it; she said she thought she could manage it.”

“You have misinterpreted my wife’s interest in your family.  Mrs. Mornway has nothing to do with the distribution of Government offices.”  The Governor broke off, annoyed to find himself asseverating for the second time so obvious a fact.

There was a moment’s silence; then Gregg said, still in a perfectly equable tone:  “You’ve always been hard on me, Governor, but I don’t bear malice.  You accused me of selling those letters to the ’Spy’—­”