“I’ll arrest that frantic fool of a professor,” he muttered. “I’ll arrest him now. Nobody can call me a traitor!” Jeremy made up his mind, and struck: “Can’t they? Read to-night’s Guardian.” “T-t-to-night’s--Wh-wh-what!” stuttered Embree. “Jem! You’re not going back on me?” “Going back on you! Have n’t you gone back on me? Have n’t you gone back on the State? On the country? Did n’t you pledge yourself to appoint a representative American Council of Defense? Where did you get your list? By cable from Berlin?” “What are you trying to do? Provoke a fight?” retorted the other fiercely. “Make you wipe out that council of Germans.” “I won’t be bulldozed and blackmailed!” shouted Embree in the loud wrath of a weak man cornered. “Then it’s the lynching party and the end of you politically. We’ll have an interview with Rappelje in this evening’s paper. He’ll talk. That silent kind always do, once they break over.” The Governor collapsed. “Wait!” he pleaded. “Give me time to think.” He walked to the window and stared out toward the east--his Mecca--Washington. When he turned, his face was so haggard that Jeremy felt a stab of remorse; but Embree contrived to summon the fleeting wraith of that once bounteous smile. “You’ve got me,” he admitted. “I’ll make another list. Wait while I outline it.” “No. I’ve got to go to the office.” “Come back here in an hour, then. I’ll have it ready.” The hour Jeremy put in in outlining to Galpin and Verrall the probable new course of the paper. Galpin was grimly pleased. “I knew we’d have to quit him.” “It’s the end of the paper,” prophesied Verrall, pale and shaken. Governor Embree was almost his normal self with almost his normal smile, when Jeremy returned to the Capitol. His revised list was one which needed no defense. It was preponderantly American, though with many of the prominent German names left, it is true, and the addition of Professor Brender and another loyal German-American. Magnus Laurens had been substituted for Bausch as chairman. Jeremy’s name remained as vice-chairman. “Is that good enough?” asked the Governor. “Yes. That’s a real Council of Defense.” “Then The Guardian will stand for it?” “To the finish.” Smiling Mart Embree swallowed hard and beamed anxiously upon the other. “What about me?” “No.” The negative was bluntly final. “My God, Jem! What more could you ask?” “A leader who can be trusted to be American.” “This is the parting of the ways, then?” “The finish.” Something in Jeremy’s throat was hurting him so that he could hardly speak. And he could not, for anything, look at Martin Embree. Then Embree made it easier for him. “And after all the years I’ve stood by you!” he cried angrily. “You turncoat! You don’t know what loyalty is!” “I’ve got pretty definite notions as to disloyalty.” Embree seized a pen and crossed Jeremy’s name off the revised list, with a pen that ripped through the paper. “All right,” said the victim evenly. “Who goes in as vice-chairman?”