"
"They are indeed," said Barouche, scanning the list. "I'd no idea these
would be doubtful."
"Luke Tarboe's working like the devil for Carnac. People believe in him.
Half the men on that list were affected by Tarboe's turning over. Tarboe
is a master-man; he has fought like hell."
"Nevertheless, I've been too long at it to miss it now," said the rueful
member with a forced smile. "I must win now, or my game is up."
The agent nodded, but there was no certainty in his eye. Feeling ran
higher and higher, but there was no indication that Barouche's hopes were
sure of fulfilment. His face became paler as the day wore on, and his
hands freer with those of his late constituents. Yet he noticed that
Carnac was still glib with his tongue and freer with his hands. Carnac
seemed everywhere, on every corner, in every street, at every polling
booth; he laid his trowel against every brick in the wall. Carnac was not
as confident as he seemed, but he was nearing the end of the trail; and
his feet were free and his head clear. One good thing had happened. The
girl who could do him great harm was not in evidence, and it was too late
to spoil his chances now, even if she came. What gave him greatest hope
was the look on Junia's face as he passed her.
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