"I know," she interrupted. "Mr. Kittredge ought to have paid him and let him go." Gantry's smile was a tribute to superior genius. "You've got me going," he said; "you always have me going. With the election only three days off, I can't tell yet what you and the senator are trying to do." "The senator, at least, has never made any secret of his object," she smiled back at him. "He has told everybody that he is out for a clean sweep." "Exactly," said Gantry; "but no man living knows what he means by a 'clean sweep.' I'll bet there are a hundred men down there in the lobby right now who would give the best year out of their lives to know. And they can't guess--they can't begin to guess!" "Let us leave them to their guesses, while we go back to the certainties," she suggested. "Did you find out what I asked you to?" "Yes; and I don't know whether I ought to tell you or not. I'm still drawing my salary from the railroad, you know." "And you are not sure that I am drawing mine?" she laughed. "Don't you remember when Mr. McVickar gave me this?" touching the little jewel-incrusted watch on her shoulder. "Yes, I remember; also I remember that this is the first time I have ever seen you wearing it." And then: "I'd never try to bribe you in the wide, wide world, Mrs. Blount." "Why not?" "For two reasons: you are too much in love with your husband; and, if you took a notion to fly the track, a king's ransom wouldn't be big enough to make you stay bribed." "I am flattered, I'm sure; but I'm still in the dark about the thing you have come here to tell me," she reminded him. "I presume you may as well know it, though I can tell you that it has been kept the darkest kind of a secret. Mr. McVickar came west to-day from Bald Butte in a new gasolene unit-car which is supposed to be making a trial trip over the road. The car is supposed to have a bunch of the Chicago officials on board, though not half a dozen men on this division know that the vice-president is the only official, and that the others are clerks and telegraphers." "Go on," said the small person quickly. "That gasolene special is lost. No station west of Bald Butte has yet reported it. Strictly between us two, it left the main line at the old disused track leading out to the abandoned Shoshone mine workings. There were autos to meet it at the mine, and by this time Mr. McVickar is probably toasting his feet before an open wood-fire in the Shonoho Inn." Mrs. Honoria leaned her two round arms on the mezzanine rail, and looked long and earnestly down upon the caucussing lobby throng. When she looked up it was to say: "There are wires?" "A full set of cut-ins. You can trust the big boss for that. He is in touch with every corner of the State, just the same as he would be if he were here in his usual election headquarters in the hotel." The small plotter became silent again, and when she spoke she was smiling brightly.