Carrington had washed, shaved himself, and changed his clothes; and as he sat in the big leather chair in the bay, overlooking the street, he looked smooth, sleek, and capable. He had seemed massive in the Pullman, wearing a traveling suit of some light material, and his corpulent waist-line had been somewhat accentuated. The blue serge suit he wore now made a startling change in his appearance. It made his shoulders seem broader; it made the wide, swelling arch of his chest more pronounced, and in inverse ratio it contracted the corpulent waist-line—almost eliminating it. Carrington looked to be what he was—a big, virile, magnetic giant of a man in perfect health. He had not been sitting in the leather chair for more than fifteen minutes when there came a knock on a door behind him. “Come!” he commanded. A tall man entered, closed the door behind him and with hat in hand stood looking at Carrington with a half-smile which might have been slightly diffident, or impudent or defiant—it was puzzling. Carrington had twisted in his chair to get a glimpse of his visitor; he now grunted, resumed his former position and said, gruffly: “Hello, Danforth!” Danforth stepped over to the bay, and without invitation drew up a chair and seated himself near Carrington. Danforth was slender, big-framed, and sinewy. His shoulders were broad and his waist slim. There was a stubborn thrust to his chin; his nose was a trifle too long to perfectly fit his face; his mouth a little too big, and the lips too thin. The nose had a slight droop that made one think of selfishness and greed, and the thin lips, with a downward swerve at the corners, suggested cruelty. These defects, however, were not prominent, for they were offset by a really distinguished head with a mass of short, curly hair that ruffled attractively under the brim of the felt hat he wore. The hat was in his right hand, now, but it had left its impress on his hair, and as he sat down he ran his free hand through it. Danforth knew where his attractions were. He grinned shallowly at Carrington when the latter turned and looked at him. He cleared his throat. “I suppose you’ve heard about it?” “I couldn’t help hearing.” Carrington scowled at the other. “What in hell was wrong? We send you out here, give you more than a year’s time and all the money you want—which has been plenty—and then you lose. What in the devil was the matter?” “Too much Taylor,” smirked the other. “But what else?” “Nothing else—just Taylor.” Carrington exclaimed profanely. “Why, the man didn’t even know he was a candidate! He was on the train I came in on!” “It was Neil Norton’s scheme,” explained Danforth. “I had _him_ beaten to a frazzle. I suppose he knew it. Two days before election he suddenly withdrew his name and substituted Taylor’s. You know what happened. He licked me two to one. He was too popular for me—damn him! “Norton owns a newspaper here—the only one in the county—the _Eagle_.”