all stood ready to crush him.

The innocent four-line advertisement of the annual election had
been duly inserted in the obscure corners of certain fourth-class
journals, "as required by law."

There was an oily grin upon Robert Wade's self-satisfied face,
and, with no single word from Worthington or Ferris, Clayton felt
the toils closing around him. He was left out of the game--a mere
poor pawn.

It was on the night before his five-o'clock tryst at the Manhattan,
when Clayton suddenly sprang from his chair. "By God! I have it!" he
cried. "Old Wade has failed to trap me. Ferris, the smug scoundrel,
will glide back here and try to steal into my intimacy. He can post
his slyly posted spies. I cannot then keep him off. And he will
reiterate Worthington's plans, cling to me, and run me to earth. He
will take up his Judas trade, and either trap me or else, baffled,
will telegraph Worthington and have me discharged. Why has
he concealed this secret marriage? And, damnation! I cannot ever
meet Jack Witherspoon in private without giving myself away. I must
have some one meet Witherspoon at the steamer and arrange for one
meeting out of town. He must go over to Philadelphia and await me.
I can take an evening train over, and be back here, even if Ferris
hangs on my track. I will go out alone, as if to the theater, and
then turn up belated. Ferris must not know. It is for my life, for
Irma, and for my fortune that I struggle now. My God! Whom can I
trust now, and they have poisoned Alice's mind against me. I see
their damned villainy. Poor Little Sister! Another man's wife now.
She will never know."