he falls on the bed. But nature restores him. Bad as it is, here is
Chicago. David Lockwin is not dead. That is certain. He is not
pursued by the law, for another congressman has been chosen. David
Lockwin has tried to kill himself, but he has not committed murder.

Is it not bravado to return and court discovery? But is not Robert
Chalmers in the mood to be discovered? "What disguise is so real as
mine?" he asks, as friend after friend passes him by.

True, he wears a heavy watch-chain and a fashionable collar. His garb
was once that of a professional man. Now his face is entirely altered.
Gouts of carmine are spotted over his cheeks; wounds are visible on his
forehead. His nose is crooked and his teeth are misshapen. His voice
is husky.

He enters a street-car for the north. It startles him somewhat to have
Corkey take a seat beside him.

"Will this car take me to the dedication?" Chalmers makes bold to ask
the conductor.

"That's what it will!" answered Corkey. "Going there? I'm going up
myself. I reckon it will be a big thing. Takes a big thing to git me
out of bed this time of day. I'm a great friend of Mrs. Lockwin's!"

"You are?"

"That's what I am. I was on the old tub when she go down. May be
you've heard of me. My name is Corkey."