"Oh, he's too much of a trimmer to go back on us now," said Joyce. "Public sentiment is all on our side now, and election day's coming." Gertrude smiled. "I can't imagine why anybody should trim his sails to get an office," she said. "Well, see what a dangerous thing it is to cultivate a taste for politics," retorted Bailey. "There's no knowledge where it may lead you." "Oh, Miss Van Deusen will have a walkover when her turn for election comes again." Gertrude remembered this remark as she sat in her library that evening, alone for the first time since she had set forth to call on Newton Fitzgerald. "Having set my hand to the plough," (her favorite expression) "I suppose I must not look back," she soliloquized, "until the end of the furrow is reached. But I may look forward, and--if I live through the next few months, I wonder if anything or anybody can persuade me to be a candidate the second time. I don't think so now. But how much more I know than I did last year!--only, of course, I cannot own it to any living soul. John Allingham ought to have beaten me. I wonder if he will run next year?" But in her heart she knew very well he would not oppose her again. "He would make an ideal mayor. Upright, honorable, fearless--and afraid of nothing but doing wrong. Ah, well--should it always take a man to deal with men--or shouldn't it? I don't know." The maid entered. "A man wishes to see you, Miss Van Deusen," said she. "He says he must talk to you personally. His name is Fitzgerald. But if you're too tired, Miss Van Deusen, I'll make him wait. If you'll excuse my saying so--you are too worn-down. These people ask too much of you." "Show him right in here, Lizzie," answered Gertrude. "And don't worry about me. I'm all right, now I am home." A moment later Fitzgerald entered and stood, hat in hand. "Excuse me, Miss Van Deusen," he began apologetically. "I've got something to confess--and I can't wait until morning--it'll be too late then." "Go on," said Gertrude kindly. "Just trouble to shut that door into the hall, please, and then come over here by me." The man did as he was told, and drew a chair near enough to her to be heard in low tones. "Miss Van Deusen," he began; "it's just as I told you; I didn't know anything about the message they sent you, nor about the trap they set for you. But I have been knowing a good deal, and now--he's running away--and I'll be d----d if I won't tell you!" "Sh--sh--who's running away?" interrupted Gertrude. "Calm yourself, Newton, and tell me." "Mann--the dirty whelp, after lining his pockets, and doing you all the harm he dares," he went on. "I've stood for him all I will. I've supported him and his cliques, and given house-room to his workers; and now he's--" Gertrude saw it was useless to try to calm him, and wisely decided to let him work off his excitement by telling his story in his own way.