His hand went to his pocket and he half drew his revolver; but it was rather a subconscious act, I think, than any deliberate design to use it. For Government, after all, is a potent thing. We fight for it and die for it. It has a splendid and natural influence not to be lightly tossed from us. And here sat one of Government’s highest representatives. Lanagan’s hand dropped to his side. “That is better,” said the Secretary. “For really, Mr. Lanagan, you cannot move from this room until we say the word. You are as helpless as though you were shackled. It is late and we have important work to do. Your answer?” It was almost pitiable to see Lanagan then. He of a score of brilliant newspaper victories, the genius of his craft, who found no situation too difficult to solve, that striking figure in the newspaper life of the West who knew no duty save to his paper, who embodied the best and the highest ideals that tradition gives to the gentlemen of the Fourth Estate, was beaten. The glow had left his eyes and his voice was dispirited, as he said: “You have my word, Mr. Secretary, but on one condition: that Carlos’ life be spared, and that you start him back with your answer. It was no fault of his. There is only one man in town who could have got that pin from him, and I can hardly blame Carlos for losing it, once Kid Monahan wanted it.” “That condition must be granted, Mr. Koshloff,” said the Secretary. Koshloff hesitated. “The wearer of the pin understands the penalty,” he began, curtly. “I know. But in this case I personally request it.” “It is granted,” said Koshloff, definitely. Lanagan was morose and savage. The Secretary proffered cigars, which Lanagan impatiently refused. “There is one thing that I would like, however,” he said with but faint show of graciousness, “and that is this pin. It will not be worn. I would like it as a memento; as something tangible to exhibit some day when I may tell this story, as proof, in support of, possibly, one of the most unusual experiences of myself or any other newspaper man.” “There are but two in existence,” said Koshloff soberly. “This one belongs to our Ambassador at Washington. It was sent to me for use in receiving the imperial message. The other--is in the possession of the Czar, and will be worn by the receiving courier at St. Petersburg. The penalty attaching to the loss of the pin, either to myself or my agents are--well, they are somewhat stringent and, with the single exception of Carlos, have always been enforced.” Lanagan snapped the patent clasp and handed the pin to Koshloff. “You see, if I lost it,” with the slightest inflection on the pronoun, “there would be no Czar of this ‘particular bailiwick’ to pardon me as you pardoned Carlos, Mr. Koshloff.”