rs who
liked its clean and orderly presentation of general news. The ownership
of the newspaper had become, since the abrupt termination of the lawsuit
instituted by Thatcher, almost as much of a mystery as formerly.
Harwood's intimate relations with it had not been revived, and neither
Mrs. Owen nor Bassett ever spoke to him of the newspaper except in the
most casual fashion.

Dan was conscious that the senator from Fraser had changed in the years
that had passed since the beginning of their acquaintance. Bassett had
outwardly altered little as he crossed the watershed of middle life; but
it seemed to Dan that the ill-temper he had manifested in the Thatcher
affair had marked a climacteric. The self-control and restraint that had
so impressed him at first had visibly diminished. What Harwood had taken
for steel seemed to him now only iron after all--and brittle iron.

During the last week of the campaign an incident occurred that shook
Harwood a good deal. He had been away from the capital for several days
making speeches, and finding that his itinerary would permit it, he ran
into town unexpectedly one night to replenish his linen and look at his
mail. An interurban car landed him in town at eleven o'clock, and he
went directly to the Boordman Building. As he walked down the hall
toward his office he was surprised to see a light showing on the
ground-glass door of Room 66. Though Bassett kept a room at the Whitcomb
for private conferences, he occasionally used his office in the Boordman
for the purpose, and seeing the rooms lighted, Dan expected to find him
there. He tried the door and found it locked, and as he drew out his key
he heard suddenly the click of the typewriter inside. Miss Farrell was
rarely at the office at night, but as Harwood opened the door, he found
her busily tapping the keys of her machine. She swung round quickly with
an air of surprise, stretched herself, and yawned.

"Well, I wasn't exactly looking for you, but I can't deny that I'm glad
to be interrupted. Hope you don't mind my doing a small job on the
side--"

As Harwood stood, suit-case in hand, blinking at her, he heard a door
farther down the hall close, followed by a step in the hall outside.
Harwood had seen no lights in the neighboring offices as he crossed the
hall, and in his frequent long night vigils with his law books, it was
the rarest thing to find any of the neighboring tenants about. He turned
quickly to the door while the