One morning, about two weeks before the election was to be held, Michael appeared in the library with a card and the announcement that the lady was waiting in the reception room. “Miss Wing!” said Briggs, absently. “Where have I seen that name? What can she want with me?” Then his face brightened. “Oh, yes, I remember.” He looked serious again. “Why should she come here, to take up my time? I don’t believe I--Well, show her in, Michael,” he said, impatiently. Miss Wing wore one of her most extravagant frocks. When Douglas Briggs offered his hand and greeted her, her face grew radiant. “How good of you to remember me, Congressman. But then it’s part of your business to remember people, isn’t it?” she said, archly. “It’s pretty hard work sometimes. But I remember you perfectly.” “That’s very flattering, I’m sure.” Miss Wing sank into the seat Briggs had placed for her. “Well, Congressman, I’ve come on a disagreeable errand.” “I’m sorry to hear that,” said Briggs, with a smile. “But with the best intentions in the world,” Miss Wing hastened to explain. “That makes it all right, then.” “It’s about--Well, I suppose I might come to the point at once. It’s connected with the Transcontinental Railway.” “M’m! Aren’t your readers tired of hearing about that?” Miss Wing shook her head. “Not when there are new and exciting developments,” she said, insinuatingly. “Such as what?” Miss Wing waited for a moment. “Well, thus far the papers have spared Mrs. Briggs.” “Mrs. Briggs? What has Mrs. Briggs to do with that railroad?” In spite of his effort to keep his self-control, Douglas Briggs betrayed anger in his voice. “Simply this,” Miss Wing went on, coolly. “I warn you it’s very unpleasant. But I--I consider it my duty to tell you.” “Go ahead, then.” Miss Wing fell into a dramatic attitude, her right hand extended and resting on her parasol. “I happen to know that Mr. Franklin West has taken advantage of his hold on you to make love to your wife.” Briggs rose from his seat. “This is the worst yet,” he said, in a low voice. Miss Wing lifted her eyebrows. “You don’t believe it?” “Of course I don’t,” he replied, contemptuously. “But I saw him with my own eyes. You’re still incredulous, aren’t you? It was the night of your ball in Washington. Mr. West was with Mrs. Briggs in the library. I saw him threaten her, and I saw that she was frightened. Knowing your relations--excuse me, but I must be frank--knowing your relations, it wasn’t hard for me to understand what he was saying.” Briggs looked angrily at his visitor. “Why have you come to me with this vile story?” he cried. Miss Wing met his looks without flinching. “In the first place, because I thought you ought to know it.” “That was why you waited for six months to tell me?” he said, scornfully. “No. I waited because of my second reason. I knew that if you were nominated again the information would be more valuable to me. There!” “How, more valuable?”