e at the locked door. Blount got up and
turned the latch to admit an office-boy wearing the uniform of the
railroad headquarters. "Note for Mr. McVickar," said the messenger; and
at a gesture from the senator he crossed the room to deliver it.

For a full half-minute after the boy had gone, the vice-president sat
poring over the pencilled scrawl, which was all that the sealed envelope
yielded. The note was lacking both date-line and signature, though the
clerks in Richard Gantry's office were familiar enough with the
hieroglyph that appeared at the bottom of the sheet. In his own good
time the vice-president folded the bit of paper and thrust it into his
pocket. Then he resumed the talk at the precise point at which it had
been broken off.

"You needn't let the boy's record trouble you," he averred. "As I said a
few minutes ago, it's as clean as a hound's tooth. That is one of the
things I'm banking on, David. If you don't look out, I'm going to have
that young fellow fighting on our side before we're through."

At this the light in the gray eyes flamed fiercely, and the
ex-cattle-king took the two strides needful to place him before
McVickar.

"Don't you try that, McVickar; I give you fair warning!" he grated, his
deep-toned voice rumbling like the burr of grinding wheels. "There's
only one way you could do it, and--"

The vice-president stood up and reached for his hat.

"And you'll take precious good care that I don't get a chance to try
that way, you were going to say. All right, David; you tell me to do my
damnedest, and I'll hand _that_ back to you, too. You do the same, and
we'll see who comes out ahead."

The vice-president caught an elevator at the end of his leisurely
progress down the corridor, and had himself lowered to the lobby. The
electric lights were glowing, and the great gathering-place was
beginning to take on its evening stir. Mr. Hardwick McVickar pushed his
way to the desk, and a row of lately arrived guests waited while he
asked his question.

"Where shall I be most likely to find Mr. Evan Blount at this time of
day?" he demanded; and the obliging clerk made the guest-line wait still
longer while he summoned a bell-boy and sent him scurrying over to one
of the writing-tables.

"This is Mr. Evan Blount," said the clerk, indicating the young man who
came up with the returning bell-boy. "Mr. Blount, this is Mr. Hardwick
McVickar, first vice-president of the Transcontinental Railway Compan