t littered the table before him. Without a moment's
cessation, these hands of the Governor's came and went among the papers,
deft, nimble, dexterous.

Magnus was sorting papers. From the heap upon his left hand he selected
a document, opened it, glanced over it, then tied it carefully, and laid
it away upon a second pile on his right hand. When all the papers were
in one pile, he reversed the process, taking from his right hand to
place upon his left, then back from left to right again, then once more
from right to left. He spoke no word, he sat absolutely still, even
his eyes did not move, only his hands, swift, nervous, agitated, seemed
alive.

"Why, how are you, Governor?" said Presley, coming forward. Magnus
turned slowly about and looked at him and at the hand in which he shook
his own.

"Ah," he said at length, "Presley...yes."

Then his glance fell, and he looked aimlessly about upon the floor.
"I've come to say good-bye, Governor," continued Presley, "I'm going
away."

"Going away...yes, why it's Presley. Good-day, Presley."

"Good-day, Governor. I'm going away. I've come to say good-bye."

"Good-bye?" Magnus bent his brows, "what are you saying good-bye for?"

"I'm going away, sir."

The Governor did not answer. Staring at the ledge of the desk, he seemed
lost in thought. There was a long silence. Then, at length, Presley
said:

"How are you getting on, Governor?"

Magnus looked up slowly.

"Why it's Presley," he said. "How do you do, Presley."

"Are you getting on all right, sir?"

"Yes," said Magnus after a while, "yes, all right. I am going away. I've
come to say good-bye. No--" He interrupted himself with a deprecatory
smile, "YOU said THAT, didn't you?"

"Well, you are going away, too, your wife tells me."

"Yes, I'm going away. I can't stay on..." he hesitated a long time,
groping for the right word, "I can't stay on--on--what's the name of
this place?"

"Los Muertos," put in Presley.

"No, it isn't. Yes, it is, too, that's right, Los Muertos. I don't know
where my memory has gone to of late."

"Well, I hope you will be better soon, Governor."

As Presley spoke the words, S. Behrman entered the room, and the
Governor sprang up with unexpected agility and stood against the wall,
drawing one long breath after another, watching the railroad agent with
intent eyes.

S. Behrman saluted both men affably and sat down near the desk, drawing
the links of his heavy watch chain through h