THE Governor stared at the card with a frown. Half an hour had elapsed
since his wife had gone upstairs to dress for the big dinner from which
official duties excused him, and he was still lingering over the fire
before preparing for his own solitary meal. He expected no one that
evening but his old friend Hadley Shackwell, with whom it was his
long-established habit to talk over his defeats and victories in the
first lull after the conflict; and Shackwell was not likely to turn up
till nine o'clock. The unwonted stillness of the room, and the
knowledge that he had a quiet evening before him, filled the Governor
with a luxurious sense of repose. The world seemed to him a good place
to be in, and his complacency was shadowed only by the fear that he had
perhaps been a trifle over-harsh in refusing his wife's plea for the
stenographer. There seemed, therefore, a certain fitness in the
appearance of the man's card, and the Governor with a sigh gave orders
that Gregg should be shown in.
Gregg was still the soft-stepping scoundrel who invited the toe of
honesty, and Mornway, as he entered, was conscious of a sharp revulsion
of feeling. But it was impossible to evade the interview, and he sat
silent while the man stated his case.
Mrs. Mornway had represented the stenographer as being in desperate
straits, and ready to accept any job that could be found, but though
his appearance might have seemed to corroborate her account, he
evidently took a less hopeless view of his case, and the Governor found
with surprise that he had fixed his eye on a clerkship in one of the
Government offices, a post which had been half promised him before the
incident of the letters. His plea was that the Governor's charge,
though unproved, had so injured his reputation that he could only hope
to clear himself by getting some sort of small job under the
Administration. After that, it would be easy for him to obtain any
employment he wanted.
He met Mornway's refusal with civility, but remarked after a moment: "I
hadn't expected this, Governor. Mrs. Mornway led me to think that
something might be arranged."
The Governor's tone was brief. "Mrs. Mornway is sorry for your wife and
children, and for their sake would be glad to find work for you, but
she could not have led you to think that there was any chance of your
getting a clerkship."
"Well, that's just it; she said she thought she could manage it."
"You have misinterpreted my wife's interest in your family. Mrs.
Mornway has nothing to do with the distribution of Government offices."
The Governor broke off, annoyed to find himself asseverating for the
second time so obvious a fact.
There was a moment's silence; then Gregg said, still in a perfectly
equable tone: "You've always been hard on me, Governor, but I don't
bear malice. You accused me of selling those letters to the 'Spy'--"
The Governor made an impatient gesture.
"You couldn't prove your case," Gregg went on imperturbably, "but you
were right in one respect. I _was_ on confidential terms with the
'Spy.'" He paused and glanced at Mornway, whose face remained
immovable. "I'm on the same terms with them still, and I'm ready to let
you have the benefit of it if you'll give _me_ the chance to retrieve
my good name."
In spite of his irritation the Governor could not repress a smile.
"In other words, you will do a dirty trick for me if I undertake to
convince people that you are the soul of honor."
Gregg smiled also.
"There are always two ways of putting a thing. Why not call it a plain
case of give and take? I want something and can pay for it."
"Not in any coin I have a use for," said Mornway, pushing back his
chair.
Gregg hesitated; then he said: "Perhaps you don't mean to reappoint
Fleetwood." The Governor was silent, and he continued: "If you do,
don't kick me out a second time. I'm not threatening you--I'm speaking
as a friend. Mrs. Mornway has been kind to my wife, and I'd like to
help her."
The Governor rose, gripping his chair-back sternly. "You will be kind
enough to leave my wife's name out of the discussion. I supposed you
knew me well enough to know that I don't buy newspaper secrets at any
price, least of all at that of the public money!"
Gregg, who had risen also, stood a few feet off, looking at him
inscrutably.
"Is that final, Governor?"
"Quite final."
"Well, good evening, then."