"But this man Ilingsworth ran away, too, didn't he? In my mind that refutes even this question of quasi-insanity that you set up. You were beaten on insanity, beaten on everything." Once more the Governor took up the petition and glanced at the names subscribed on it. When he came to the name of Nathan Ougheltree of the National Banks, he smiled and said: "He heads the list." And running his finger further down the long line of names, he added sardonically: "Instead of being People vs. Ilingsworth, it looks like Ougheltree against Wilkinson--the National Banks against the Trust Companies. At least it does to me, Mr. Higgins; how does it look to you?" The Hon. Worth Higgins flushed to his eyelids. "My dear Governor," he said reprovingly, "a man's life is at stake." "I understand that, Counsellor," returned the Governor. "I'm just trying to figure out just how much you and Ougheltree care about the man's life, that's all. I'll take your papers," he went on, "and have no fear, I'll go over this thing carefully, give the man the benefit of every reasonable doubt, and that's the best I can do." "You'll pardon him, Governor Beekman," said Higgins, placing his silk hat upon his head, and lighting a cigar. "You'll pardon him, I predict. Good-day!" Higgins's head was held high in the air until he left the room, but once outside he conversed dejectedly with his own inner consciousness. "What the devil did Ougheltree send me on this fool errand for!" he protested. "Ilingsworth's done for; anyhow, he's served our purpose. The _Morning Mail_ has had him for a weapon against Wilkinson long enough." On Church Street he stepped into a telephone booth and called up Ougheltree in Manhattan. "What luck?" queried the National Bank man. At his end of the line Higgins chuckled. "You can lay this unction to your soul," he replied. "There's no hope. Besides," unconsciously lowering his voice, "this man B. is Wilkinson's man from top to toe. I did what I could." "Nobody could do more," conceded Ougheltree at the other end; "let it go at that." No sooner was the interview between Higgins and the Governor at an end than the latter's private secretary tiptoed his way back into the room, and remarked: "You're not through with that Ilingsworth case yet. Somebody else wants to see you--a woman, this time." "His wife, I suppose," said the Governor, wearily. Phillips shook his head. "Ilingsworth was a widower," he explained. "It must be his daughter, then--he has a daughter, so it seems," he said, tapping the printed case. "Doesn't she give her name? No? Well, tell her to come in, then." The private secretary went out as directed, and a moment later the new visitor entered. In a glance the Governor saw that although she was simply and poorly clad, she was a woman of great beauty; and presently he said: "You are Miss Ilingsworth?" The woman turned her lustrous dark blue eyes full upon him--eyes full of sorrow, full of appeal; they troubled the Governor.