Mr. Vane shook his head sadly.  And, confident as he was, the movement sent a cold chill down the Honourable Adam’s spine, for faith in Mr. Vane’s judgment had become almost a second nature.  He had to force himself to remember that this was not the old Hilary.

“You won’t have three hundred, Adam, at any time,” answered Mr. Vane.  “Once you used to believe what I said, and if you won’t now, you won’t.  But I can’t go away without telling you what I came for.”

“What’s that?” demanded Mr. Hunt, wonderingly.

“It’s this,” replied Hilary, with more force than he had yet shown.  “You can’t get that nomination.  If you’ll let me know what your campaign expenses have been up to date,—­all of ’em, you understand, to-night too,—­I’ll give you a check for them within the next two weeks.”

“Who makes this offer?” demanded Mr. Hunt, with more curiosity than alarm; “Mr. Flint?”

“No,” said Hilary; “Mr. Flint does not use the road’s funds for such purposes.”

“Henderson?”

“No,” said Hilary; “I can’t see what difference it makes to you.”

The Honourable Adam had an eminently human side, and he laid his hand on Mr. Vane’s knee.

“I think I’ve got a notion as to where that money would come from, Hilary,” he said.  “I’m much obliged to you, my friend.  I wouldn’t take it even if I thought you’d sized up the situation right.  But—­I don’t agree with you this time.  I know I’ve got the nomination.  And I want to say once more, that I think you’re a square man, and I don’t hold anything against you.”

Mr. Vane rose.

“I’m sorry, Adam,” he said; my offer holds good after to-morrow.”

“After to-morrow!”

“Yes,” said the Honourable Hilary.  “I don’t feel right about this thing.  Er—­good night, Adam.”

“Hold on!” cried Mr. Hunt, as a new phase of the matter struck him.  “Why, if I got out—­”

“What then?” said Mr. Vane, turning around.

“Oh, I won’t get out,” said Mr. Hunt, “but if I did,—­why, there wouldn’t, according to your way of thinking, be any chance for a dark horse.”

“What do you mean?” demanded Mr. Vane.

“Now don’t get mad, Hilary.  I guess, and you know, that Flint hasn’t treated you decently this summer after all you’ve done for him, and I admire the way you’re standing by him.  I wouldn’t do it.  I just wanted to say,” Mr. Hunt added slowly, “that I respect you all the more for trying to get me out.  If—­always according to your notion of the convention—­if I don’t get out, and haven’t any chance, they tell me on pretty good authority Austen Vane will get the nomination.”

Hilary Vane walked to the door, opened it and went out, and slammed it behind him.