whom he owed much, and certainly he could do this without yielding his own point in the case. Slowly he turned for pen and ink, and then making up his mind he wrote rapidly, and gave the order into Mrs. McDonald's hands.

"Thank you," she said simply. "Governor, when I am in power, I will give you a little extra good time off for this concession." Then she added seriously: "Ah, I am afraid when the truth comes out about this case, you will find that the State has a murder to account for and it will be too late then. A life once taken can never be returned. There is then no possible reparation to be made."

Very weary and sick at heart was the mistress of Riverside as she entered the wide hall of her beautiful home.

"Well, Nell dear," cried her husband as he hastened to meet her, "what news?"

"Oh, don't ask me, for I am mad clear through! Why do you men give the destiny of human lives into such hands? He may be a lawyer and a politician and an able administrator on certain lines, but his heart and soul are tough as shoe leather, and his righteous hypocrisy, after all we know of his dealings, just makes me sick! I tell you, I would rather be poor, sincere, frank

hearted Jack Morris in the shadow of death than take the responsibility that man takes so lightly in this matter."

"I'll venture one thing," said her husband to her sons after she had gone to her room. "The Governor heard some plain straight truths to the benefit of his soul this day if he never heard them before."

"Ah, bless her dear heart!" cried Dick, "she is too honest and true and sincere to stand for the kind of thing one is up against all the time in dealing with politicians."

But Muriel, who was sitting by the window in her room watching the fading twilight, heard none of this, and only knew of the failure of her last hope when a figure stole softly through the shadowy room and a tender arm encircled her lovingly. Then their tears mingled, and in the growing dusk they prayed together for strength to face what the morrow must bring.

CHAPTER XVI

IN THE ELEVENTH HOUR

HE telephone bell in the Executive mansion

THE

rang persistently. It might have rung on till doomsday for aught the Governor cared. He sat in an easy chair, with his long figure disposed in comfortable relaxation. He was a finelooking man, or at least so thought those who could admire austere haughtiness and lengthy attenuation. To-night he had dressed early and was enjoying his evening paper at his leisure, while his wife, who had been late in returning from an afternoon function, was arraying herself for his inspection and approval, for it was to be a quiet evening at home. She was a timid woman whom he could wilt with a look. She seemed generally to be apologising for the fact that she had dared to become the wife of so exalted and clever a being.

While the telephone called, the Governor smiled

and read on. He rather liked the thought of the discomfort or anger of the man at the other end of the line.

By-and-bye, a soft-treading and stately butler appeared on the scene, and frowning, at the telephone as he might at a barking dog or crying child, he proceeded to answer its insistent demand for attention. It was a relief to have done with the bell, but the butler's "Yes, sir," "No, sir," "I will see, sir," "Certainly, sir," delivered in a voice to match the frown, passed by the Governor's consciousness as completely as had the call itself. A moment later he looked up to find the man waiting at his side to interrupt his reading, and the frown that he turned upon that unfortunate individual made the butler's face a placid mask of meekness.

"Well, Bates, have you shut them off? No business here, you know."

"Excuse me, sir, may it please your Excellency [Bates loved titles, however out of place in this country], it is your Excellency's private secretary and he says he must see you at once. He says it is a matter of life and death and can he come immediately."

The Governor's frown deepened to the blackness of the thunder cloud. He drew his long figure

together and walked with stately disapproving step to the telephone.

"That you, McAllister? What in thunder are you so excited about? I have told you, time and time again, I won't have business after business hours."

"Oh, that case again! Why, I have had bother enough over that already."

"I'll hear nothing more of it."

"Nonsense! I do not see why I should consider anything of the kind."

A long pause while McAllister argued and explained at the other end of the telephone and then a grudging, "Oh, well, if you must bring it to me, come after dinner. Let me at least eat in peace. Yes, I'll expect you then."

"All right."

Perhaps the good lady, who greeted the Governor as he turned from the telephone, took too much of his frowning aspect to herself and imagined that her tardiness was to blame for his exceeding irritability at dinner. She was greatly relieved