--the
vice-president, and you, Corrighan--in case something arises to prevent
my leaving the city."

Langley, the lawyer, rose protesting.

"But, Mr. Gard, no one _can_ take your place. It's the penalty, perhaps,
of being what and who you are, but the honor of your responsibilities
demands it. There is more at stake than your own interests, or the
interest of your friends. There's the public, your stockholders. You owe
it to them and to yourself to shoulder this responsibility without any
'ifs,' 'ands' or 'buts.'"

Gard turned as if to rend him. "I have told you I'll go, haven't I?
But--and there _is_ a but--gentlemen, you must select another delegate,
or delegation, in case circumstances arise--"

Denning's voice interrupted from the end of the table. "Gard, what
excuse is the only excuse for not returning one's partner's lead? Sudden
death."

"Or when you _must_ have the lead yourself," snapped Gard. "I cannot go
into this matter with you, gentlemen. The contingency I speak of is very
remote--if it is a contingency at all. But I must be frank. I cannot
have you take my enforced absence, if such should be necessary, as
defalcation or a shirking of my duty--so I warn you."

"The chance is remote," Denning replied in quiet tones that palliated.
"Let us decide, then, who, in case this vague possibility should shape
itself, will act as delegates. I do not think we can improve on the
president's suggestion, but," and he turned to Gard sternly, "I trust
the contingency is _so_ remote that we may consider it an impossibility
for all our sakes, and your own."

Gard did not answer. In silence he heard the motion carried, and
silently and without his usual affability he turned and left the room.
The others eyed each other with open discomfiture.

"Well, gentlemen, the meeting is over," said Denning gloomily. "We may
as well adjourn."

A very puzzled and uneasy group dispersed before the tall marble office
building, while in his own private office Gard paced the floor, from
time to time punching the open palm of his left hand with the clenched
fist of his right, in fury at himself.

"Am I mad--am I mad?" he repeated mechanically. "Has the devil gotten
into me?" His confidential clerk knocked, and seeing the Great Man's
face, paused in trepidation. "What is it? What is it?" snapped Gard.

"There's Brenchcrly, sir, in the outer office. He wouldn't give his
message--said you'd want to see him in private; so I ventured-