The Governor made an impatient gesture.

“You couldn’t prove your case,” Gregg went on imperturbably, “but you were right in one respect.  I wason confidential terms with the ‘Spy.’” He paused and glanced at Mornway, whose face remained immovable.  “I’m on the same terms with them still, and I’m ready to let you have the benefit of it if you’ll give methe chance to retrieve my good name.”

In spite of his irritation the Governor could not repress a smile.

“In other words, you will do a dirty trick for me if I undertake to convince people that you are the soul of honor.”

Gregg smiled also.

“There are always two ways of putting a thing.  Why not call it a plain case of give and take?  I want something and can pay for it.”

“Not in any coin I have a use for,” said Mornway, pushing back his chair.

Gregg hesitated; then he said:  “Perhaps you don’t mean to reappoint Fleetwood.”  The Governor was silent, and he continued:  “If you do, don’t kick me out a second time.  I’m not threatening you—­I’m speaking as a friend.  Mrs. Mornway has been kind to my wife, and I’d like to help her.”

The Governor rose, gripping his chair-back sternly.  “You will be kind enough to leave my wife’s name out of the discussion.  I supposed you knew me well enough to know that I don’t buy newspaper secrets at any price, least of all at that of the public money!”

Gregg, who had risen also, stood a few feet off, looking at him inscrutably.

“Is that final, Governor?”

“Quite final.”

“Well, good evening, then.”

IV

SHACKWELL and the Governor sat over the evening embers.  It was after ten o’clock, and the servant had carried away the coffee and liqueurs, leaving the two men to their cigars.  Mornway had once more lapsed into his arm-chair, and sat with out-stretched feet, gazing comfortably at his friend.

Shackwell was a small dry man of fifty, with a face as sallow and freckled as a winter pear, a limp mustache, and shrewd, melancholy eyes.

“I am glad you have given yourself a day’s rest,” he said, looking at the Governor.

“Well, I don’t know that I needed it.  There’s such exhilaration in victory that I never felt fresher.”

“Ah, but the fight’s just beginning.”

“I know—­but I’m ready for it.  You mean the campaign against Fleetwood.  I understand there is to be a big row.  Well, he and I are used to rows.”

Shackwell paused, surveying his cigar.  “You knew the ‘Spy’ meant to lead the attack?”

“Yes.  I was offered a glimpse of the documents this afternoon.”

Shackwell started up.  “You didn’t refuse?”

Mornway related the incident of Gregg’s visit.  “I could hardly buy my information at that price,” he said, “and, besides, it is really Fleetwood’s business this time.  I suppose he has heard the report, but it doesn’t seem to bother him.  I rather thought he would have looked in to-day to talk things over, but I haven’t seen him.”