"We must be even more careful in his absence to safeguard his honor than the case really requires. We not only have his public responsibility but our own into the bargain in so far as we speak and act for him. And there's always the state--the Palmetto flag must be kept flying at the masthead." Their eyes met as they passed under an electric lamp and he saw how completely she was relying on his guidance. They were now at the edge of town and she bade him stop the carriage. "We must go to the state house," said Griswold. "We must get that requisition, to guard against treason in the citadel. Assuming that Governor Osborne really doesn't want to see Appleweight punished we'd better hold the requisition anyhow. It's possible that your father had it ready--do pardon me!--for a grand-stand play, or he may have wanted to bring Appleweight into the friendlier state;--but that's all conjectural. We'd better keep out of the principal streets. That reporter has a sharp eye." She gave the necessary directions and the driver turned back into Columbia. It was pleasant to find his accomplice in this conspiracy a girl of keen wit who did not debate matters or ask tiresome questions. The business ahead was serious enough, though he tried by manner, tone and words to minimize its gravity. If the attorney-general was serving a personal spite, or whatever the cause of his attitude, he might go far in taking advantage of the governor's absence. Griswold's relation to the case was equivocal enough, he fully realized; but the very fact of its being without precedent, and so beset with pitfalls for all concerned, was a spur to action. In the present instance a duly executed requisition for the apprehension of a criminal, which could not be replaced if lost, must be held at all hazards, and Griswold had determined to make sure of the governor's warrant before he slept. "Have you the office keys?" he asked. "Yes; I have been afraid to let go of them. There's a watchman in the building, but he knows me very well. There will not be the slightest trouble about getting in." The watchman--an old Confederate veteran--sat smoking in the entrance and courteously bade them good evening. "I want to get some papers from father's office, Captain." "Certainly, Miss Barbara." He preceded them, throwing on the lights, to the governor's door, which he opened with his own pass key. "It's pretty lonesome here at night, Miss Barbara." "I suppose nobody comes at night," remarked Griswold. "Not usually, sir. But one or two students are at work in the library, and Mr. Bosworth is in his office." The veteran walked away jingling his keys. Barbara was already in the private office bending over the governor's desk. She found the right key, drew out a drawer, then cried out softly. She knelt beside the desk, throwing the papers about in her eagerness, then turned to Griswold with a white face.