"Brief summaries of intricate subjects are almost inevitably open to misunderstanding," observed Quisante. "Just so, just so," Foster hurried to say, his eyes grown quite grave again. May remembered Mr. Constantine Blair's plagiarism of her husband's style; had he been there, he must have appropriated this last example also. "I shall end by becoming very fond of Japhet Williams," she said as she got into the carriage. Quisante glanced at her and did not ask her why. Meanwhile, however, the other side had got hold of No. 77, and Smiley, the agent, a very clever fellow, wired up to the Temple for young Terence McPhair, who had an acquaintance with the subject. Young Terence, who possessed a ready tongue and no briefs to use it on, made fine play with No. 77; accusations of misrepresentation, ignorant he hoped, fraudulent he feared, flew about thick as snowflakes. The next morning Japhet was round at the Committee Room by ten o'clock. Foster was there, and a boy came up to the Bull with a message asking if Mr. Quisante could make it convenient to step round. It was a bad morning with Quisante; his head ached, his heart throbbed, and his stomach was sadly out of gear; he had taken up a report of young Terence's speech, and read it in gloomy silence while the others breakfasted. There was to be a great meeting that night, and they had hoped that he would reserve what strength he had for it. He heard the message, rose without a word, and went down to the Committee Room. "What'll he do?" asked Jimmy Benyon. "They gave us some nasty knocks last night." "He can prove that the placard has been withdrawn, at least that no more are to be ordered," said Fanny Gaston. "It wasn't his fault; he's not bound to defend it." Quisante came home to a late lunch; he was still ill, but his depression had vanished; he ate, drank, and talked, his spirit rising above the woes of his body. "What have you done this morning?" Fanny asked. "Held a meeting in the dinner-hour, had ten interviews, and the usual palaver with Japhet." "How are Mr. Williams' feelings?" asked May. "He's all right now," said Quisante, smiling. Then he added, "Oh, and we've wired to town for two hundred and fifty more of 77."