career. I skinned a man when I had him down. He could do it and go to the senate; I do it, and I'm a thief!"
"You were merciless, you drove him out of himself," Alma said.
"I only went after what I wanted," Findlay defended, ready to argue his justification even in his peril.
"Go!" Mrs. Nearing faced him, imperious in her old manner of stateliness—"or even a defenseless old woman may strike you down!"
"All right, by God! I'll go. But they'll never get me—I tell you now they'll never get me!"
"Hope! Who's there? Hope!"
Nearing's voice sounded from his room, weakly, but recognizable. Findlay started at the sound of it, seeming to set his ears like a listening horse. Mrs. Nearing hastened away, answering her husband's call softly as she went.
"The honorable senator!" Findlay sneered. "He seems a long way from dead yet." He reached suddenly, caught Alma by the wrist, and bent to speak his hot, savage words into her ear. "Go on—go to his room!" he ordered her. "I'm not going to hurt you—go on, I say!"
He enforced his command by the thrust of his pistol against her neck, twisting her arm roughly. Looking up into his face one moment, Alma saw that any appeal to humanity or honor would be wasted against the armor of his vindictive heart. She went ahead of him to Nearing's door.
"You've not got even the decency to die, you woman-
