littlest and most lovely woman in the world. She, at
least, should not suffer. And out of this nightmare of powerless
prominence, of impotent position, he himself could retire into private
life, and be no less a man than he had been before. But from the
reproach of corruption which had fallen upon her, and the impending slur
of anarchy, who was to rescue Alleghenia? The Lieutenant-Governor set
his lips and drove his nails into his palms, as he stood in the shadow
of the Rathbawnes' doorway, looking up at the sky of the February night.
He was not a religious man--as the term goes--but in that moment he said
a better prayer for the welfare of his state than had ever lain upon the
lips of any priest in Kenton City!

He was about to strike his match when an instinct rather than an actual
perception of movement arrested his hand. Bradbury Avenue, upon which
stood the Rathbawne house, was situated in one of the quieter residence
districts which prided itself on the turfed spaces between its
dwellings, pretentious enough for the most part, and the double rows of
trees which lined its thoroughfares. It was one of these trees which, at
the moment, attracted Barclay's attention. It lay in a direct line
between himself and the arc-light on the corner, and its trunk, in some
miraculous manner, had abruptly developed an elbow, and then an arm. The
Lieutenant-Governor was still staring at this phenomenon when it was as
abruptly explained by the sudden emergence from shadow of a man, who had
apparently been standing on the side of the tree nearest to the house.
He was crossing the avenue obliquely when something about his bearing
caused the Lieutenant-Governor to lean forward and follow him intently
with his eyes. It was all there, as Natalie had said--the lifted
shoulders, the bent head, the unmistakable, pathetic air of the beggar.
Then, as he neared the light, he gave a short upward strain to his neck
and chin, the impatient movement of a man whose collar annoys him. The
trick was too familiar to have been forgotten. The next moment Barclay's
heels were pounding on the asphaltum behind him, and then Barclay's hand
fell upon his shoulder and whirled him round.

In the oddly intense radiance of the arc-light above, which cut sharply
across the surface of forehead, cheek, and chin, and left heavy shadows
like those in a roughly blocked-out carving, under brow, nose, and lower
lip, the two men faced each other briefly, in silence. The