Miss Lane flashed an indignant glance and then proceeded to go on with her work. “Hasn’t Wheeler tried for a pardon all this time?” Keefe asked. “Indeed he has,” Sam returned, “many times. But you see, though successive governors were willing to grant it, father always managed to prevent it. Dad can pull lots of wires, as you know, and since he doesn’t want Wheeler fully pardoned, why, he doesn’t get fully pardoned.” “And he lives under the stigma.” “Lots of people don’t know about the thing at all. He lives—well—he lives in Connecticut—and—oh, of course, there is a certain stigma.” “And your father will bring about his full pardon if he promises——” “Let up, Keefe; I’ve said I can’t tell you that part—you’ll get your instructions in good time. And, look here, I don’t mean for you to make love to the girl. In fact, I’m told she has a suitor. But you’re just to give her a little song and dance about my suitability for the election, and then adroitly persuade her to use her powers of persuasion with her stubborn father. For he will be stubborn—I know it! And there’s the mother of the girl . . . tackle Mrs. Wheeler. Make her see that my father was justified in the course he took—and besides, he was more or less accountable to others—and use as an argument that years have dulled the old feud and that bygones ought to be bygones and all that. “Try to make her see that a full pardon now will be as much, and in a way more, to Wheeler’s credit, than if it had been given him at first——” “I can’t see that,” and Keefe looked quizzical “Neither can I,” Sam confessed, frankly, “but you can make a woman swallow anything.” “Depends on what sort of woman Mrs. Wheeler is,” Keefe mused. “I know it. I haven’t seen her for years, and as I remember, she’s pretty keen, but I’m banking on you to put over some of your clever work. Not three men in Boston have your ingenuity, Keefe, when it comes to sizing up a situation and knowing just how to handle it. Now, don’t tell father all I’ve said, for he doesn’t especially hold with such small measures. He’s all for the one big slam game, and he may be right. But I’m right, too, and you just go ahead.” “All right,” Keefe agreed. “I see what you mean, and I’ll do all I can that doesn’t in any way interfere with your father’s directions to me. There’s a possibility of turning the trick through the women folks, and if I can do it, you may count on me.” “Good! And as for you, Miss Lane, you keep in the background, and make as little mischief as you can.” “I’m not a mischief-maker,” said the girl, pouting playfully, for she was not at all afraid of Sam Appleby. “Your blue eyes and pink cheeks make mischief wherever you go,” he returned; “but don’t try them on old Dan Wheeler. He’s a morose old chap——” “I should think he would be!” defended Genevieve; “living all these years under a ban which may, after all, be undeserved! I’ve heard that he was entirely innocent of the forgery!”