re ready. Do
you promise?"

The limousine had stopped opposite the Recorder building and McAllister
alighted slowly. Then he reached in through the open door and shook
hands.

"All right, Ben. You're the doctor," he decided.

"Good. You can count on me, then. As a starter I can promise that the
photos of the Alderson Construction Company's missing campaign-fund
contribution will be delivered to you personally to-morrow night. I'll
look you up when I get back in a week's time, Mac. Good-night."

McAllister remained standing at the curb till Wade's car swung out of
sight around the corner. Then he struck the pavement with his cane,
for it irritated him to be so completely surprised. Wade knew! How
much did he know? And how in under the sun----?

"Pyed!" he grunted. "Devil take the man!"

He turned slowly and entered the building to his night's work.

CHAPTER VIII

ABOARD THE PRIVATE CAR, "OBASKA"

For many years self-repression had stood high in the estimation of
Hughey Podmore as a thing worth cultivating. He had first learned the
value of it in many a clandestine game of poker, which he had
condescended to play of a Saturday afternoon in a corner of the
deserted composing-room. In those days of his early newspaper
experience the ink-daubed denizens of the "ad-alley" had paid with
hard-earned wages for many a fancy vest and expensive cravat which the
paper's star reporter had worn with such aplomb. And when he had
adventured afield into wider pastures more in harmony with his talents,
where the cards were not soiled nor the air pungent with printers' ink
and benzine, he had taken with him a tendency to quiet tones of speech
and quietness of movement.

Being a believer in rubber-heels and a cool head, therefore, the
secretary to the President of the Canadian Lake Shores Railway went
about his duties with his customary assurance. After the first
excitement of his startling discovery had passed there was nothing in
his manner to indicate the fires which burned within. To one who knew
him well, perhaps, it might have seemed that for the two weeks which
followed the mysterious disappearance of the tan satchel he was even a
little quieter than usual, a little more restrained in his talk, and a
little more alert in movement. Beyond this he gave no indication of
the keen disappointment and mortification that possessed him.

It had been the biggest stake for which he had yet played. He had