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revenge?The nauseated feeling grew more acute....Reaching my office,I shut the door,sat down at my desk,summoned my will,and began to jot down random notes for the part of my speech I was to give the newspapers,notes that were mere silly fragments of arguments I had once thought effective.I could no more concentrate on them than I could have written a poem.Gradually,like the smoke that settled down on our city until we lived in darkness at midday,the horror of what Bitter had told me began to pervade my mind,until I was in a state of terror.

Had I,Hugh Paret,fallen to this,that I could stand by consenting to an act which was worse than assassination?Was any cause worth it?Could any cause survive it?But my attempts at reasoning might be likened to the strainings of a wayfarer lost on a mountain side to pick his way in the gathering dusk.I had just that desperate feeling of being lost,and with it went an acute sense of an imminent danger;the ground,no longer firm under my feet,had become a sliding shale sloping toward an unseen precipice.Perhaps,like the wayfarer,my fears were the sharper for the memory of the beauty of the morning on that same mountain,when,filled with vigour,I had gazed on it from the plain below and beheld the sun breaking through the mists....

The necessity of taking some action to avert what I now realized as an infamy pressed upon me,yet in conflict with the pressure of this necessity there persisted that old rebellion,that bitterness which had been growing all these years against the man who,above all others,seemed to me to represent the forces setting at nought my achievements,bringing me to this pass....

I thought of appealing to Leonard Dickinson,who surely,if he knew of it,would not permit this thing to be done;and he was the only man with the possible exception of Miller Gorse who might be able to restrain Judd Jason.But I delayed until after the luncheon hour,when I called up the bank on the telephone,to discover that it was closed.I had forgotten that the day was Saturday.I was prepared to say that I would withdraw from the campaign,warn Krebs myself if this kind of tactics were not suppressed.But I could not get the banker.Then I began to have doubts of Dickinson's power in the matter.Judd Jason had never been tractable,by any means;he had always maintained a considerable independence of the financial powers,and to-day not only financial control,but the dominance of Jason himself was at stake.He would fight for it to the last ditch,and make use of any means.No,it was of no use to appeal to him.What then?Well,there was a reaction,or an attempt at one.

Krebs had not been born yesterday,he had avoided the wiles of the politicians heretofore,he wouldn't be fool enough to be taken in now.Itold myself that if I were not in a state bordering on a nervous breakdown,I should laugh at such morbid fears,I steadied myself sufficiently to dictate the extract from my speech that was to be published.I was to make addresses at two halls,alternating with Parks,the mayoralty candidate.At four o'clock I went back to my room in the Club to try to get some rest....

Seddon's Hall,the place of my first meeting,was jammed that Saturday night.I went through my speech automatically,as in a dream,the habit of long years asserting itself.And yet--so I was told afterwards--my delivery was not mechanical,and I actually achieved more emphasis,gave a greater impression of conviction than at any time since the night I had lost my control and violently denounced the reformers.By some astonishing subconscious process I had regained my manner,but the applause came to me as from a distance.Not only was my mind not there;it did not seem to be anywhere.I was dazed,nor did I feel--save once--a fleeting surge of contempt for the mob below me with their silly faces upturned to mine.There may have been intelligent expressions among them,but they failed to catch my eye.

I remember being stopped by Grierson as I was going out of the side entrance.He took my hand and squeezed it,and there was on his face an odd,surprised look.

"That was the best yet,Hugh,"he said.

I went on past him.Looking back on that evening now,it would almost seem as though the volition of another possessed me,not my own:

seemingly,I had every intention of going on to the National Theatre,in which Parks had just spoken,and as I descended the narrow stairway and emerged on the side street I caught sight of my chauffeur awaiting me by the curb.

"I'm not going to that other meeting,"I found myself saying."I'm pretty tired.""Shall I drive you back to the Club,sir?"he inquired.

"No--I'll walk back.Wait a moment."I entered the ear,turned on the light and scribbled a hasty note to Andrews,the chairman of the meeting at the National,telling him that I was too tired to speak again that night,and to ask one of the younger men there to take my place.Then Igot out of the car and gave the note to the chauffeur.

"You're all right,sir?"he asked,with a note of anxiety in his voice.

He had been with me a long time.