"Governor--Eliot," he remarked jovially, "the New York _Reporter_ and the _Star_ call you the pardoning Governor." "Yes. They rapped me hard, didn't they," he said, all unconscious that they were Wilkinson's own papers. "But what could I do? The man Ilingsworth was innocent--I knew he was innocent." "Oh, they didn't hit you very hard--just a little dig in the short ribs--friendly little scrap, don't you know," said Morehead, soothingly. "But the _Morning Mail_ made up for it, my boy. They'll stick to you through thick and thin, and don't you forget it. It won't hurt you. Ougheltree's backing is not to be sneezed at by any man. But what I started in to say, Eliot, was, that since you're the pardoning Governor, so-called, why, we've got a little bone to pick with you--a petition--or petitions, rather, in the case of the People versus Wilkinson." Colonel Morehead handed up his bunch of papers, Leslie following suit, as she said with a little smile: "My contribution, Governor." "A bit stiff, that U. S. Supreme decision," said the Governor, taking them, and looking at Wilkinson. "It seemed to me unnecessarily rough." Wilkinson shrugged his shoulders. "With the National Banks against me, how can the U. S. courts be for me--that's what I'd like to know?" he asked. "Will you hear me now, Governor," interposed Morehead. For an instant the Governor hesitated. Then he replied that he would send for him when he was ready; that he had to read the case all through, ending with: "I've forgotten half of it. I'll read it and then I'll set a day...." But that day was long forthcoming. For it was not until three weeks later that Colonel Morehead heard anything relating to their visit to the Governor in Albany. And then, one morning to his surprise, Governor Beekman presented himself at his office in Broadway, and handing him a personal memorandum, he said: "I was down here and thought we'd clean these up first. I'm going to Murgatroyd's to look at the original exhibits when I'm through here--or he'll probably send them to my office." The Colonel gave the man before him one long searching glance. He noted that the Governor's face was unnaturally flushed; there were deep lines on it; he had the appearance of an over-worked man. "Must have burned some midnight oil on this thing, Eliot?" said Morehead. The Governor wearily drew his hand across his face. "I have," he answered shortly. "The first memo.," went on the Governor, referring to the printed case, "relates to page 121." Morehead found page 121 and his face reddened perceptibly. The Governor had touched a sore spot: page 121 contained the first bit of damning documentary evidence against Wilkinson. Morehead ran through the other pages indicated on the memorandum; and closing his eyes for a few seconds, he pressed his hands against them and thought hard. The Governor had burnt midnight oil to some purpose: he had located every weak place in Wilkinson's armour--and Morehead knew it.