CHAPTER VIII.
A DEBT OF HONOR.
The governor of West Virginia sat at his desk in the State House, with a bored and weary air. Although inaugurated barely nine months before, the cares of state seemed to rest heavily on his mind, for it was becoming worse than a Chinese puzzle to fill all the official places to the entire satisfaction of the people.
He had just dashed off a letter making an appointment over which there had been a fierce political squabble, and he sighed as he thought how the battle would be fought over again by the opposing sides of the press as soon as his decision became known.
At that moment Private Secretary Boggs came quietly into the room.
“A caller, your excellency!”
“Ah, Boggs, I was just thinking of going over to the mansion. His card?”
“He had none, and he refused me his name.”
“Rather curious.”
“He said you would remember him as a young man to whom you had promised a favor.”