“Who you want, boss?” he asked, stopping his work and leaning on the handle of his broom.

“The governor—­where is he?” demanded the general.

“You’s too late, boss, he’s done gone out.”

A sense of futility and defeat almost overwhelmed the old general.  He was silent for a moment since he dared not trust himself to speak, then he asked: 

“Is the governor’s secretary here?”

The man shook his head.

“Him and the governor left together.  There ain’t no one here now, they’ve done for the day.”

“Then the governor has gone home?”

“I expect that’s where he went, yes, sir.”

General Herbert swung about and hurried from the room.  In the hall he met Elizabeth.

“Did you see him?” she asked eagerly.

“Not here,” he answered huskily.

Her eyes grew wide with terror, and she swayed as if about to fall, but her father put out a sunburnt hand for her support.

“We must go back!” he said, mastering himself at sight of her suffering.  “We have missed him here, he’s gone home, that is all—­it means nothing.”

They drove in silence through the streets.  Pallid, fearful, and speechless in her suffering, Elizabeth leaned back in her seat.  The hope that had sustained her was lost in the realization of defeat.  There was nothing beyond; this was failure, complete and final; the very end of effort!  Suddenly her father’s big hand closed about the small one which rested in her lap.

“You must not give up; I tell you it will be all right!” he insisted.

“He is avoiding us!” she cried chokingly.  “Oh, what can we do when he will not even see us!”

“Yes, he will.  We have been unfortunate, that is all.”

“Wretchedly unfortunate!” she moaned.

They had reached their destination, and this time slowly and uncertainly they ascended the steps.  With his hand upon the bell, the general hesitated for an instant; so much was at stake!  Then a bell sounded in some distant part of the house, and after a brief interval the door was opened to them.

“I am sorry, sir, but the governor has not returned.”

The general thrust a bill into the man’s hand, saying: 

“The moment he comes in, see that he gets my card.”

Again there was delay.  General Herbert, consumed by impatience, crossed and recrossed the room.  Elizabeth stood by the window, one hand parting the heavy curtains.  It was already late afternoon.  The day had been wasted, and the hours that remained to them were perilously few.  But more than the thought of North’s death, the death itself filled her mind with unspeakable imaginings.  The power to control her thoughts was lost, and her terrors took her where they would, until North’s very death struggles became a blinding horror.  Somewhere in the silent house, a door opened and closed.

“At last!” said the general, under his breath.