“But I am not in league with evil spirits to do harm to my fellow-men.  I do not wish evil to any one,” he argued.

“You are in such evil consociation,” whispered a voice within him.  “There are but two great parties in the world—­the evil and the good.  No middle ground exists.  You are with one of these—­working for the good of your fellow-men, or for their injury.  One of these great parties acts in concert with heaven, the other with hell.  On the side of one stand arrayed good spirits—­on the side of the other evil spirits.  Can good spirits be on your side?  Would they, for the sake of gain, take the food out of the mouths of starving children?  Would they put allurements in a brother’s way to entice him to ruin?  No!  Only in such deeds can evil spirits take delight.”

“Then I am on the side of hell?”

“There are but two parties.  You cannot be on the side of heaven, and do evil to your neighbour.”

“Dreadful thought!  In league with infernal spirits to curse the human race!  Can it be possible Am I really in my senses?”

For nearly half an hour did Graves pace the floor backwards and forwards, his mind in a wild fever of excitement.  In vain did he try, over and over again, to argue the point against the clearest and strongest convictions of reason.  Look at it as he would, it all resolved itself into that one bold and startling position, that he was in league with hell against his fellow-men.

“And now, what shall I do?” was the question that arose in his mind.  “Give up my establishment?”

At that moment, Sandy, the bar-tender, opened the parlour door, and said with a broad smile—­

“The Sub-Treasury is working wonders again!  I’m overrun, and want help.”

“I can’t come down, just now, Sandy.  I’m not very well.  You will have to get along the best you can,” Graves replied.

“I don’t know what I shall do then, sir:  I can’t make ’em half as fast as they are called for.”

“Let half of the people go away then,” was the cold reply.  “I can’t help you any more to-day.”

Sandy thought, as he withdrew, that the “old man” must have suddenly lost his senses.  He was confirmed in this idea before the next morning.

It was past twelve o’clock when the run of custom was over, and Sandy closed up for the night.  As soon as this was done, Mr. Graves came in for the first time since dinner.

“It’s been a glorious day for business,” Sandy said, rubbing his hands.  “I’ve taken in more, than thirty dollars.  Lucifer himself must have put the idea into your head.”

“No doubt he did,” was the grave reply.

Sandy stared at this.

“Didn’t you tell me that Bill Riley had joined the temperance society?”

“Yes, I did,” replied the bar-keeper.

“Are you sure?”

“I am sure, I was told so by one that knew.”

“I only wish I was certain of it,” was the reply, made half abstractedly.  And then the dealer leaned down upon the bar and remained in deep thought for a very long time, to the still greater surprise of Sandy, who could not comprehend what had come over his employer.