Parks arose, picked up the money without a word, and passed into Randolph Mason's private office, closing the door carefully behind him. In a very few moments the clerk returned. He came up dose to the gambler and put his hand confidentially on his shoulder. “My friend,” he said, in a low tone, “you are not a fool. I have told some lies to get you this interview. Look sharp, and say as little as possible.” “What lies?” asked the gambler, arising. “Such as were useful,” responded the clerk. “Quite too tedious to enumerate. Please walk into Mr. Mason's office, sir, and remember that you are my brother-in-law. Answer the questions which are put to you, and don't volunteer talk. It is n't wise.” The gambler opened the door to Randolph Mason's private office and entered. VII HE Secretary of State came slowly down the steps from Randolph Mason's office. At the entrance to the great building he stopped and looked up and down the busy, jostling thoroughfare. It had been but a few years since he was a grain in this vortex, and now that past seemed ages removed. He was not conscious of anything of interest in the very familiar scene. Just why he had stopped to look, this man would not have been quite able to explain. In truth, he was striving to obtain his mental bearings. He had been flung violently upon another view point, and he was endeavoring to comprehend the loom of this new land. His sensations were not unlike those of one who but an hour before had gone into the operating room of a surgeon, walking as he believed to his death, and now returned with the tumor dissected out, and the hope of life big in his bosom. The world was an entirely different place from what it had been some hours before, and the gambler's steps were firmer, and his ancient careless spirit had returned. At this moment, as it pleased Fate, a cab stopped before a broker's office on the opposite-side of the street, and the Governor stepped out. The gambler darted across and caught his companion by the shoulder. The Governor turned suddenly. “Well,” he said, in astonishment, “is this an assault _vi et armis?_” “No,” said the gambler. “It's worse than that, Al. It's a mandamus. You are not to go in that broker's office.” “Not to go in?” echoed the Executive. “Why not?” “Al,” said the gambler, grinning like a Hindoo idol, “I said this here was a mandamus. I guess the judge don't ever explain 'why not' in a mandamus.” “Good chancellor,” replied the Governor, with mock gravity, “I resist the order.” “On what ground?” said the lion. Ambercrombie Hergan, with such a sage judicial air as might obtain with a truck horse. “First,” replied the Governor, “that the mandamus was improvidently awarded. Second, that the Court issuing the writ was without jurisdiction. And, third, that the act sought to be restrained is not entirely ministerial, but one largely within the discretion of the officer.” “All them objections,” said the gambler, “this Court overrules.”