He knew the passionate excitement, fairly well controlled; he saw her
bitterness at a glance. He motioned her to a chair.

"It's an early call," he said with a smile. Smiling was one of his
serviceable assets; it was said no man could so palaver the public with
his cheerful goodnature.

"Yes, it's an early call," she replied, "but I wish not to wait till you
go to your office. I wanted you to know something. It has to do with
Mr. Carnac Grier."

"Oh, that--eh!"

"It's something you've got to know. If I give you the sure means to win
your election, it would be worth while--eh?"

The beating of Barouche's heart was hard, but nothing showed in his face.
There he had control.

"I like people who know their own minds," he said, "but I don't believe
anything till I study what I hear. Is it something to injure Mr. Grier?"

"If a married man went about as a single man and stood up for Parliament
against you, don't you think you could spoil him?"

For a moment Barouche was silent. Here was an impeachment of his own
son, but this son was out to bring his own father to the ground. There
were two ways to look at it. There was the son's point of view, and
there was his own. If he loved his son he ought to know the thing that
threatened him; if he hated his son he ought to know. So, after a