"Well, then," said the man, "your party's been tricking us, and we won't stand it."

Peter wrote diligently.

"And we know who's back of it. It was all pie down to that dinner of yours."

"Is that Maguire's message?" asked Peter, though with no cessation of his labors.

"Nop," said the man. "That's the introduction. Now, we know what it means. You needn't deny it. You're squinting at the governorship yourself. And you've made the rest go back on Maguire, and work for you on the quiet. Oh, we know what's going on."

"Tell me when you begin on the message," said Peter, still writing.

"Maguire's sent me to you, to tell you to back water. To stop bucking."

"Tell Mr. Maguire I have received his message."

"Oh, that isn't all, and don't you forget it! Maguire's in this for fur and feathers, and if you go before the convention as a candidate, we'll fill the air with them."

"Is that part of the message?" asked Peter.

"By that we mean that half an hour after you accept the nomination, we'll have a force of detectives at work on your past life, and we'll hunt down and expose every discreditable thing you've ever done."

Peter rose, and the man did the same instantly, putting one of his hands on his hip-pocket. But even before he did it, Peter had begun speaking, in a quiet, self-contained voice: "That sounds so like Mr. Maguire, that I think we have the message at last. Go to him, and say that I have received his message. That I know him, and I know his methods. That I understand his hopes of driving me, as he has some, from his path, by threats of private scandal. That, judging others by himself, he believes no man's life can bear probing. Tell him that he has misjudged for once.

Tell him that he has himself decided me in my determination to accept the nomination. That rather than see him the nominee of the Democratic party, I will take it myself. Tell him to set on his blood-hounds. They are welcome to all they can unearth in my life."

Peter turned towards his door, intending to leave the room, for he was not quite sure that he could sustain this alt.i.tude, if he saw more of the man. But as his hand was on the k.n.o.b, Curlew spoke again.

"One moment," he called. "We've got something more to say to you. We have proof already."

Peter turned, with an amused look on his face. "I was wondering," he said, "if Maguire really expected to drive me with such vague threats."

"No siree," said Curlew with a self-a.s.sured manner, but at the same time putting Peter's desk between the clerk and himself, so that his flank could not be turned. "We've got some evidence that won't be sweet reading for you, and we're going to print it, if you take the nomination."

"Tell Mr. Maguire he had better put his evidence in print at once. That I shall take the nomination."

"And disgrace one of your best friends?" asked Curlew.

Peter started slightly, and looked sharply at the man.

"Ho, ho," said Curlew. "That bites, eh? Well, it will bite worse before it's through with."

Peter stood silent for a moment, but his hands trembled slightly, and any one who understood anatomy could have recognized that every muscle in his body was at full tension. But all he said was: "Well?"

"It's about that trip of yours on the 'Majestic.'"

Peter looked bewildered.

"We've got sworn affidavits of two stewards," Curlew continued, "about yours and some one else's goings on. I guess Mr. and Mrs. Rivington won't thank you for having them printed."

Instantly came a cry of fright, and the crack of a revolver, which brought Peter's partners and the clerks crowding into the room. It was to find Curlew lying back on the desk, held there by Peter with one hand, while his other, clasping the heavy gla.s.s inkstand, was swung aloft. There was a look on Peter's face that did not become it. An insurance company would not have considered Curlew's life at that moment a fair risk.

But when Peter's arm descended it did so gently, put the inkstand back on the desk, and taking a pocket-handkerchief wiped a splash of ink from the hand that had a moment before been throttling Curlew. That worthy struggled up from his back-breaking att.i.tude and the few parts of his face not drenched with ink, were very white, while his hands trembled more than had Peter's a moment before.

"Peter!" cried Ogden. "What is it?"

"I lost my temper for a moment," said Peter.

"But who fired that shot?"

Peter turned to the clerks. "Leave the room," he said, "all of you. And keep this to yourselves. I don't think the other floors could have heard anything through the fire-proof brick, but if any one comes, refer them to me." As the office cleared, Peter turned to his partners and said: "Mr. Curlew came here with a message which he thought needed the protection of a revolver. He judged rightly, it seems."

"Are you hit?"

"I felt something strike." Peter put his hand to his side. He unb.u.t.toned his coat and felt again. Then he pulled out a little sachet from his breast-pocket, and as e did so, a flattened bullet dropped to the floor.

Peter looked into the sachet anxiously. The bullet had only gone through the lower corner of the four photographs and the glove! Peter laughed happily. "I had a gold coin in my pocket, and the bullet struck that.

Who says that a luck-piece is nothing but a superst.i.tion?"

"But, Peter, shan't we call the police?" demanded Ogden, still looking stunned.

Curlew moved towards the door.

"One moment," said Peter, and Curlew stopped.

"Ray," Peter continued, "I am faced with a terrible question. I want your advice?"

"What, Peter?"

"A man is trying to force me to stand aside and permit a political wrong. To do this, he threatens to publish lying affidavits of worthless scoundrels, to prove a shameful intimacy between a married woman and me."

"Bosh," laughed Ray. "He can publish a thousand and no one would believe them of you."

"He knows that. But he knows, too, that no matter how untrue, it would connect her name with a subject shameful to the purest woman that ever lived. He knows that the scavengers of gossip will repeat it, and gloat over it. That the filthy society papers will harp on it for years. That in the heat of a political contest, the partisans will be only too glad to believe it and repeat it. That no criminal prosecution, no court vindication, will ever quite kill the story as regards her. And so he hopes that, rather than entail this on a woman whom I love, and on her husband and family, I will refuse a nomination. I know of such a case in Ma.s.sachusetts, where, rather than expose a woman to such a danger, the man withdrew. What should I do?"

"Do? Fight him. Tell him to do his worst."

Peter put his hand on Ray's shoulder.

"Even if--if--it is one dear to us both?"

"Peter!"

"Yes. Do you remember your being called home in our Spanish trip, unexpectedly? You left me to bring Miss De Voe, and--Well. They've bribed, or forged affidavits of two of the stewards of the 'Majestic.'"

Ray tried to spring forward towards Curlew. But Peter's hand still rested on his shoulder, and held him back, "I started to kill him,"

Peter said quietly, "but I remembered he was nothing but the miserable go-between."

"My G.o.d, Peter! What can I say?"

"Ray! The stepping aside is nothing to me. It was an office which I was ready to take, but only as a sacrifice and a duty. It is to prevent wrong that I interfered. So do not think it means a loss to me to retire."