“Better to live for one day than to exist for a hundred!” Chilcote's voice trembled with anxiety. For the third time he extended his hand and touched the other. This time Loder did not shake off the detaining; hand; he scarcely seemed to feel its pressure. “Look here.” Chilcote's fingers tightened. “A little while ago you talked of influence. Here you can step into a position built by influence. You might do all you once hoped to do--” Loder suddenly lifted his head. “Absurd!” he said. “Absurd! Such a scheme was never carried through.” “Precisely why it will succeed. People never suspect until they have a precedent. Will you consider it? At least consider it. Remember, if there is a risk, it is I who am running it. On your own showing, you have no position to jeopardize.” The other laughed curtly. “Before I go to-night will you promise me to consider it?” “No.” “Then you will send me your decision by wire to-morrow. I won't take your answer now.” Loder freed his arm abruptly. “Why not?” he asked. Chilcote smiled nervously. “Because I know men--and men's temptations. We are all very strong till the quick is touched; then we all wince. It's morphia with one man, ambitions with another. In each case it's only a matter of sooner or later.” He laughed in his satirical, unstrung way, and held out his hand. “'You have my address,” he said. “Au revoir.” Loder pressed the hand and dropped it. “Goodbye,” he said, meaningly. Then he crossed the room quietly and held the door open. “Good-bye,” he said again as the other passed him. As he crossed the threshold, Chilcote paused. “Au revoir,” he corrected, with emphasis. Until the last echo of his visitor's steps had died away Loder stood with his hand on the door; then, closing it quietly, he turned and looked round the room. For a considerable space he stood there as if weighing the merits of each object; then very slowly he moved to one of the book-shelves, drew out May's Parliamentary Practice, and, carrying it to the desk, readjusted the lamp. VI All the next day Chilcote moved in a fever of excitement. Hot with hope one moment, cold with fever the next, he rushed with restless energy into every task that presented itself--only to drop it as speedily. Twice during the morning he drove to the entrance of Clifford's Inn, but each time his courage failed him and he returned to Grosvenor Square--to learn that the expected message from Loder had not come. It was a wearing condition of mind; but at worst it was scarcely more than an exaggeration of what his state had been for months, and made but little obvious difference in his bearing or manner. In the afternoon he took his place in the House, but, though it was his first appearance since his failure of two days ago, he drew but small personal notice. When he chose, his manner could repel advances with extreme effect, and of late men had been prone to draw away from him.