to deny," said the man, as soon as he could
be heard, "that his real name is Silas Kegworthy, and that he underwent
three years' penal servitude for murderously assaulting his wife."

Then the candidate braced himself and said: "The bare facts are true.
But I have lived stainlessly in the fear of God and in the service of
humanity for thirty years. I have sought absolution for a moment of mad
anger under awful provocation in unremitting prayer and in trying to
save the souls and raise the fortunes of my fellow-men. Is that all you
have against me?"

"That's all," said the man.

"It is for you, electors of Hickney Heath, to judge me."

He sat down amid tumultuous cheers, and the man who had interrupted
him, after some rough handling, managed to make his escape. The
chairman then put a vote of confidence in the candidate, which was
carried by acclamation, and the meeting broke up.

Such were the essential facts in the somewhat highly coloured newspaper
story which Paul read in stupefied horror. He dressed quickly and went
to his sitting-room, where he rang tip his father's house on the
telephone. Jane's voice met his ear.

"It's Paul speaking," he replied. "I've just this moment read of last
night. I'm shaken to my soul. How is my father?"

"He's greatly upset," came the voice. "He didn't sleep all night, and
he's not at all well this morning. Oh, it was a cruel, cowardly blow."

"Dastardly. Do you know who it was?"

"No. Don't you?"

"I? Does either of you think that I--?"

"No, no," came the voice, now curiously tearful. "I didn't mean that. I
forgot you've not had time to find out."

"Who does he think it was?"

"Some old fellow prisoner who had a grudge against him."

"Were you at the meeting?"

"Yes. Oh, Paul, it was splendid to see him face the audience. He spoke
so simply and with such sorrowful dignity. He had their sympathy at
once. But it has broken him. I'm afraid he'll never be the same man
again. After all these years it's dreadful."

"It's all that's damnable. It's tragic. Give him my love and tell him
that words can't express my sorrow and indignation."

He rang off. Almost immediately Wilson was announced. He carne into the
room radiant.

"You were right about the divine common-sensicality," said he. "The
Lord has delivered our adversary into our hands with a vengeance."

He was a chubby little man of forty, with coarse black hair and scrubby
moustache, not of the type that readily