He turned to Reliance. “Reliance,” he said, “I want you to hear this. You go in the parlor and leave the door open a crack. Don’t mind sitting in the dark a few minutes, do you?” She started toward the parlor. Then she turned and looked at him fixedly and with growing suspicion. “Foster,” she said, sharply, “what is all this? Have you-- What have you been doin’?” He waved her away. “Keep your ears open and maybe you’ll find out,” he suggested. “Hurry up! I don’t want him to see you--yet.” Congressman Alpheus Mooney had not honored that room with his presence for almost a year. That he now considered himself as honoring it was quite apparent. Bowed in by the reverential Mrs. Gifford he entered briskly and with importance. When he last crossed the threshold of the Townsend house he had been an anxious candidate for office, humbly seeking aid and advice from the most influential man in his district. Then he came hat in hand. His hat was in his hand now, but he tossed it lightly upon the table without waiting for an invitation. “Good evening, Cap’n Townsend,” he said. “Well, here I am, you see.” “Glad to see you, Mooney,” declared the captain. “It was good of you to come. You are pretty busy these days, I expect. Have a chair.” Mooney took the chair which was offered him. He crossed his knees. “Why, yes,” he admitted. “Yes, I am pretty busy just now, that’s a fact. Never too busy to oblige an old friend though. I happened to be in Trumet when your letter came and I was very glad to drive up and see you. I was sorry to hear of your sickness. You look quite like yourself again. As well as you ever did, I should say.” If there was a very slight hint of patronage in the Congressman’s manner it was no more than should be expected of a Congressman. And in this case it was unintentional. The Honorable Mooney was not wholly at ease concerning the purpose of this interview to which he had been summoned. The letter he had received was brief and polite. If Mr. Mooney could make it convenient to drop in at the Harniss house some evening soon, Foster Townsend would consider his doing so a favor. There was a little matter, of interest to both, to be talked over. He--Townsend--had not been well or he should come to Trumet. Mooney had replied by telegraph naming this Wednesday evening at nine. And in the interval between the receipt of the letter and that moment he had been wondering what the little matter of interest might be. There was but one which offered itself as a probability, and that little matter was all right, settled beyond change. Nevertheless--well, the Honorable Alpheus was not entirely free from curiosity, perhaps even from anxiety. Foster Townsend received the gratifying assurance concerning his robust appearance with a rather dubious shake of the head.