The night had been as hard for Edith Cortlandt as it had been for Kirk, but during its sleepless hours she had reached a determination.  She was not naturally revengeful, but it was characteristic of her that she could not endure failure.  Action, not words or tears, was the natural outlet of her feelings.  There was just one possible way of winning Kirk back, and if instead it ruined him she would be only undoing what she had mistakenly done.  As soon after breakfast as she knew definitely that her husband had gone out, she telephoned to General Alfarez, making an appointment to call on him at eleven.

It was the first time she had ever gone to see him, for she was in the habit of bringing people to her, but this was no ordinary occasion, and she knew the crafty old Spaniard would be awaiting her with eagerness.

Her interview with him was short, however, and when she emerged from his house she ordered the coachman to drive directly to the Garavel Bank.  This time she stayed longer, closeted with the proprietor.  What she told him threw him into something like a panic.  It seemed that Anibal Alfarez was by no means so well reconciled to the death of his political hopes as had been supposed.  On the contrary, in spite of all that had been done to prevent it, he had been working secretly and had perfected the preliminaries of a coup which he intended to spring at the eleventh hour.  Through Ramon, he had brought about an alliance with the outgoing Galleo, and intended to make the bitterest possible fight against Garavel.  Such joining of forces meant serious trouble, and until the banker’s position was materially strengthened it would be most unwise to announce his candidacy as had been planned.  The General had worked with remarkable craftiness, according to Mrs. Cortlandt’s account, and Galleo’s grip upon the National Assembly was so strong as to threaten all their schemes.  She did not go into minute details—­there was no need, for the banker’s fears took fire at the mere fact that Alfarez had revolted.  He was dumfounded, appalled.

“But it was only last week that we were assured that all was well,” he cried in despair.

She shrugged her shoulders.  “One is privileged to change his mind overnight, I suppose.  Politics is not a child’s game.”

“Oh, I am sorry I ever entertained the proposal.  To be defeated now would do me immeasurable harm, not only in my pride, but in my business affairs.  My affiliations with the government are of the closest—­they must be, for me to live.  To be a candidate, to make the fight, and to be beaten!  What consideration will come to the firm of Garavel Hermanos, think you?”

“Not much, but you are not so deeply committed that you cannot withdraw.”

This cool suggestion brought the expected outburst.  “Rather than such a disgrace,” cried Garavel, “I would go to certain defeat.  One’s pride is not for sale, madame.  What has caused this so sudden change of sentiment?”