A Man of Two Countries

by Alice Harriman

"I can't afford to, Danvers," he said finally. "I'm not only a poor man, but a ruined one as well. I may keep it and—get out of the State."

"And vote for Bob Burroughs?" The head of the opposition still kept his calm acceptance of his discovery. Curiously enough it threshed the sick senator, after a few words, into stubborn silence.

"Maybe I will and maybe I won't. I have the money, and Bob or Bill will never dare to ask for it back. If you ever see me in the Assembly again you'll know that I'm going to vote for Burroughs—curse him!"

"Let me have that money, Charlie," Danvers pleaded. "Think of your sister. It will break her heart if you do this thing. And," he continued huskily, for he suddenly found that he could not control his voice, "hearts enough have been broken over this business of electing a United States senator." He reached out his hand, persuasively, expectantly. "I will see that it goes to the men who gave it to you."

But Senator Blair was obdurate; and when Philip left him he felt that his long fight was to end in defeat, and that Robert Burroughs would be elected by the high-priced vote of Winifred's brother. Senator Danvers had kept in too close touch with the situation not to know that Moore would never have paid such a sum to Senator Blair if he were not their last hope for a majority of even one.

The next day of the Legislature Senator Blair was again reported not present on account of sickness, and William Moore thought it best not to show his full strength. The next, and the last day of the session, Blair was still absent. Ballot after ballot was taken. One by one men responded to the crack of Moore's whip and changed their votes to Burroughs, while the spectators indulged in significant laughter. One by one the several candidates withdrew their names as their former adherents shamelessly went over the fast increasing list for Burroughs. Still Senator Danvers held most of his men, and not until long after nightfall did the ballots come within one of electing Burroughs. The last man to change, amid hoots of derision, was Joseph Hall.

Mr. Burroughs and the Honorable William were both in the rear of the House of Representatives, for the first time during the session.

"We must get Charlie Blair here!" hissed Burroughs, hearing Senator Danvers make a motion for a ten minutes' recess. Senator Hall opposed the motion. He did not know that Senator Blair's vote would elect Burroughs, or he would not have tried to block Danvers' desire to speak to some of the turncoats. But the motion prevailed and there was much seeking of the various places where a man might refresh himself after such arduous toil. "He shall come," continued the candidate for Congress, "if he dies in the next hour!" Moore, feeling sure of the men he had already lined up, consented to be the one to bring the sick senator from the hotel, only five minutes away.

In the meantime Senator Danvers was vainly trying to stem the tide. The doctor reported that Senator Blair was in bed and apparently sleeping, so Philip was comparatively easy. All that remained for him to do was to see that no other man went over to the enemy; and it had been agreed that the Legislature should adjourn at two o'clock that night.

Senator Blair, meanwhile, had made up his mind to get away that very hour. No matter if he were too sick to stand, he would get up and dress, get a carriage and go.... It was better than staying and going mad. The hotel was practically empty, he knew, for everybody who could be at the capitol was there to witness the closing hours of the Assembly. Word had spread that Robert Burroughs would surely be elected before midnight. The whole city and most of the State's inhabitants of voting age and sex were crowded into the capitol. Charlie knew that Winifred was with Mrs. Latimer across the hall. Hurriedly he dressed, trembling with fear and physical weakness, packed a suit case, felt to see if the thirty thousand dollars was safe, and cautiously opening the outer door, peeped into the hall to see if the way was clear. But it was not. There stood the Honorable William, in the very act of putting his hand on the door-knob!