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 were too excited to give a clear account of the affair. They knew that Whalen and Brokoski, sitting on opposite sides of the table, had been quarreling. They had heard the shot, had been blinded by the flash, and had seen Whalen bolt. Brokoski had fallen heavily upon the table, and died with an oath upon his lips.

Gilman never forgot that wild night. He had spent it with the governor at the headquarters of the state central committee. In the dawn, when the east was yellowing, and sparrows began to scuffle and splutter on the eaves of the federal building looming dour just over the way, the news of the murder and frauds had come to them. The governor's face, white with excitement and fatigue, had suddenly darkened. Had it been the shadow cast by the passing of a great ambition?

At the close of the long day the woman, beckoned by Gilman into the governor's presence, lingered on the threshold of the chamber. The room was full of shadows. The figure of the governor, standing in the tall window, shut out the waning light, and was silhouetted, big and black, against the twilight