When James reached his office next morning he found Killen waiting for him. One glance at the weak defiant face told him that the legislator was again in revolt. The lawyer felt a surge of disgust sweep over him. All through the session he had cajoled and argued the weak-kneed back into line. Why didn't Hardy do his own dirty work instead of leaving it to him to soil his hands with these cheap grafters? No longer ago than yesterday it had been a keen pleasure to feel himself so important a factor in the struggle, to know that his power and his personality were of increasing value to his side. But to-day--somehow the salt had gone out of it. The value of the issue had dwindled, his enthusiasm gone stale. After all, what did it matter who was elected? Why should not the corporate wealth that was developing the country see that men were chosen to office who would safeguard vested interests? It was all very well for Jeff to talk about democracy and the rights of the people. But Jeff was an impracticable idealist. He, James, stood for success. Within the past twenty-four hours there had been something of a shift of standards for him. His visit to The Brakes had done that for him. He craved luxury just as he did power, and the house on the hill had said the final word of both to him in the personalities of Joe Powers and his daughter. It had come home to him that the only way to satisfy his ambition was by making money and a lot of it. This morning, with the sharpness of his hunger rendering him irritable, he was in no mood to conciliate disaffectants to the cause of which he was himself beginning to weary. “Well?” he demanded sharply of Killen. “I've been looking for your cousin, but I can't find him. He was to have met me here later.” “Then I presume he'll be here when he said he would.” The eyes of the lawyer were cold and hard as jade. “You can tell him it won't be necessary for me to see him. I've made other arrangements,” Killen said uneasily. “You mean that you repudiate your agreement with him. Is that it?” Farnum's voice was like a whiplash. “I've decided to support Frome. Fact is--” “Oh, damn the facts! You made an agreement. You're going to sell out. That's all there is to it.” The young man's face was dark with furious disgust. Killen flared up. “You better be careful how you talk to me, Mr. Farnum. I might want to know what Big Tim was doing in your office yesterday. I might want to know what business took you up to The Brakes by a mighty roundabout way.” James strode forward in a rage. “Get out of here before I throw you out, you little spying blackguard.” “You bet I'll get out,” screamed the mill man. “Get clear out and have nothing more to do with your outfit. But I want to tell you that folks will talk a lot when they know how you and Big Tim fixed up a deal--” Killen, backing toward the door as he spoke, broke off to hasten his exit before the lawyer's threatening advance.