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58 It's always easier to get at a man through his women-folk." Tempest looked at the face that was red with the light of the lamp which Poley had just brought into the passage. It was a dangerous face. It was recklessly alive and alluring, and there was a spark of eagerness in it now that turned Tempest sick.

"You're a brute, Dick," he said.

"Very possibly. But I'm going to shoot Ducane out of here. He has jockeyed the District long enough, and—I guess that case is worth while. But I want your post-mark on me with the wife. It will save a deal of time."

"What do you purpose doing with her?"

"Making her talk, of course. What else?"

"You'll end by making her suffer—when she knows what she has talked for."

"Well" Dick put Jennifer aside with a gesture. "Why should women get off cheaper than men?" he said. "They are one-half the human race, and they are accountable for most of the mistakes it makes—the dear creatures!"

"They don't get off cheaper."

"Mrs. Ducane isn't going to get ten years—or may be twenty—for fraud. Ducane is, I hope. And she'll probably be very glad to get rid of him." Then, suddenly, "Is your talk about your work meaning more to you than anything all hot air?" he demanded.

"No."

"Then don't put a spoke in my wheel with Mrs. Ducane. I know what I'm at!"

Tempest was leaning forward with his face in his hand. Quite clearly he saw that inexorable law which is made for all time. Canada was calling; the coming nation was calling; the type which nature is eternally building anew was calling. And the individual, the separate soul, must, now as ever, be powdered to dust to feed it, if need be. It was the law; and there big and dark, with the red light on his face, was the kind of man whom Nature chooses to enforce these kinds of laws for her. He spoke slowly.

"I'll take you—if necessary."

Dick came near. His eyes were curious.