rshall, on his desk, was the little iron stamp of the
consulate. Protectingly, almost caressingly, he laid his hand upon it.

"I refuse," he corrected, "to place the seal of this consulate on a
lie."

There was a moment's pause. Miss Cairns, unwilling to remain, and
unable to withdraw, clasped her hands unhappily and stared at the floor.
Livingstone exclaimed in indignant protest. Hanley moved a step nearer
and, to emphasize what he said, tapped his knuckles on the desk. With
the air of one confident of his advantage, he spoke slowly and softly.

"Do you appreciate," he asked, "that, while you may be of some
importance down here in this fever swamp, in Washington I am supposed
to carry some weight? Do you appreciate that I am a senator from a State
that numbers four millions of people, and that you are preventing me
from serving those people?"

Marshall inclined his head gravely and politely.

"And I want you to appreciate," he said, "that while I have no weight
at Washington, in this fever swamp I have the honor to represent eighty
millions of people, and as long as that consular sign is over my door
I don't intend to prostitute it for YOU, or the President of the United
States, or any one of those eighty millions."

Of the two men, the first to lower his eyes was Hanley. He laughed
shortly, and walked to the door. There he turned, and indifferently, as
though the incident no longer interested him, drew out his watch.

"Mr. Marshall," he said, "if the cable is working, I'll take your tin
sign away from you by sunset."

For one of Marshall's traditions, to such a speech there was no answer
save silence. He bowed, and, apparently serene and undismayed, resumed
his seat. From the contest, judging from the manner of each, it was
Marshall, not Hanley, who had emerged victorious.

But Miss Cairns was not deceived. Under the unexpected blow, Marshall
had turned older. His clear blue eyes had grown less alert, his broad
shoulders seemed to stoop. In sympathy, her own eyes filled with sudden
tears.

"What will you do?" she whispered.

"I don't know what I shall do," said Marshall simply. "I should have
liked to have resigned. It's a prettier finish. After forty years--to be
dismissed by cable is--it's a poor way of ending it."

Miss Cairns rose and walked to the door. There she turned and looked
back.

"I am sorry," she said. And both understood that in saying no more than
that she had best shown her sympathy.