The old man thrust his deformed foot out before him, struck it meditatively with his cane, and, looking Voorhees straight in the eye, boldly said:
"There's nothing the matter with your majority, young man. I've no doubt it's all right. Unfortunately, you are a Democrat, and happen to be the odd man in the way of the two-thirds majority on which the supremacy of my party depends. You will have to go. Come back some other time." And he did.
In the Senate there was a hitch. When the vote was taken on the expulsion of Stockton, to the amazement of the leader it was a tie.
He hobbled into the Senate Chamber, with the steel point of his cane ringing on the marble flags as though he were thrusting it through the vitals of the weakling who had sneaked and hedged and trimmed at the crucial moment.
He met Howle at the door.
"What's the matter in there?" he asked.
"They're trying to compromise."
"Compromise the Devil of American politics," he muttered. "But how did the vote fail—it was all fixed before the roll-call?"
"Morrill, of Maine, has trouble with his conscience! He is paired not to vote on this question with Stockton's colleague, who is sick in Trenton. His 'honour' is involved, and he refuses to break his word."
"I see," said Stoneman, pulling his bristling brows down until his eyes were two beads of white light gleaming through them. "Tell Wade to summon every mem-
