tic measures and there seemed no likelihood of a change; while in
Buffalo, Pittsburgh, and Baltimore soothingly sepulchral silence and
calm reigned.

As the month of January gave place to the briefest of his brothers, a
temporary lull in hostilities appeared to have arrived. Mr. Gunterson,
drawing a long breath, was wondering if it could be possible that the
worst of the tempest had passed, when eruptions from three craters
burst forth almost simultaneously, and by the light of their flames it
was seen that all which had gone before was of minor moment compared to
that which was now to come.

It was about the third week in February that a Conference war was
declared in Philadelphia, Buffalo, and Baltimore. In the ears of Mr.
Gunterson the triple detonation rang terribly, like the very voice of
doom, and it was with the desperation of hopelessness that he addressed
himself to the solution of this new problem.

He no longer trusted himself as direct mediator; his Boston experience
had cured him of all personal meddlesomeness; it was much more
dignified to remain quietly in New York directing the efforts of his
subordinates and criticizing them when they failed to accomplish the
impossible. He did not care to expose himself to another Sternberg,
Bloom, and McCoy triumvirate. So he sat in his office, dictating
letters and giving endless pieces of impracticable advice to special
agents who inwardly cursed; and to Mr. Wintermuth he bore weirdly
distorted versions of situations and crises beyond any power of his to
unravel or even to explain.

Even on matters of fact he was pleasingly vague.

"How many agencies have we lost?" the President demanded on one
occasion.

"Really, I could hardly say exactly," Mr. Gunterson responded. "You
see, some that haven't actually resigned have stopped sending us
business--to any extent. But," he added, "we can more than make up
such losses in income when our new appointments show the full results
of their business."

"How long do you calculate that's going to take?" abruptly inquired the
usually courteous Mr. Wintermuth.

Mr. Gunterson did not know, but he was decidedly of the opinion that it
could not be very long before the tide was stemmed.

But as the days went by the tide continued to run in the same
direction. Baltimore, threatening dire things, hung trembling in the
balance; Buffalo had already gone over to the enemy; Philadelphia was
as yet hesitating before the fin