But he found everything as he left it. Ed Howe still sat by the stove, still smoked. He looked up as Jim entered, and shifted his pipe in his mouth. “Why, Jim!” he exclaimed in pretended dismay. “You’re all het up! You’re all of a stew! Jim--have you gone and seen a ghost?” Jim Thomas glared at him. He had gone away from this place confident and calm; he returned in a turmoil of fear; and the worst of this fear was that he did not know what it was he feared. He glared at Howe. “What you been up to whilst I was gone, Ed Howe?” he demanded. Ed looked at him in surprise. “We-ell--I’ve smoked two pipes.” Jim strode to the ballot box, shook it, stared into its slot as though to read its secret. Ned Bentley came in. He wished to cast his vote, and proceeded to do so. As he was about to go, he paused for a moment on the threshold. “Has anybody here seen Wint?” he asked. It was the stressing of his words that startled Jim. This stress, the emphasis of the verb, suggested that they had been discussing Wint, or that Wint must be in all their thoughts. And Jim had not thought of Wint Chase for days. “Why should we have seen Wint?” he demanded, and looked at Ed Howe. Ed was grinning. Of a sudden, light burst on Jim Thomas. It was not all the truth that he guessed. But it was enough of it to make his head swim. Without a word, he leaped for the street and ran across to the hotel--where there was a telephone. Ed Howe watched him go--and grinned. “I declare--Jim acts right crazy,” he drawled. Jim came back presently, a grim set about his jaw. He had no word for any of them. But he went to the voting list and copied the names of those citizens who had not yet voted, and went to the telephone again. When he returned this time, it was five minutes to four o’clock. Ed lounged up from his chair. “Well--we’ve ’greed to close the polls now. Go to counting....” He started for the door, as though to bolt it. Jim Thomas sprang in front of him. Jim was mad. “Git back there, Ed Howe.” Ed looked puzzled. “Why--what--” “Yo’re tricky; but you ain’t won yet. Set down. Legal hour for closing is six. We’ll have some law here.” “But we ’greed on four....” “Shut up!” Ed lounged back in his chair. “Well--in that case--I got time for another smoke.” He filled his pipe and began it. There followed a hectic two hours. Hardiston had never seen anything like it, anything even approaching it. Every automobile that could be mustered by the Chase forces was mustered. Every livery stable in town hitched up its most ramshackle team. Even the funeral hacks were pressed into service. Fenney’s motor truck brought two loads of men from the glass factory. Even Bob Dyer’s old tandem bicycle came into use. And when the elder Chase met Congressman Caretall in front of the Post Office at half past five, he refused to speak to him.