The horse, half Spanish, powerful and irascible, was quickly saddled.

As Clarence mounted, the man in an impulse of sociability said,-- "Saw you at the theatre to-night, sir." "Ah," returned Clarence, quietly gathering up the reins.
"Rather a smart trick of that woman with the flag," he went on tentatively.

Then, with a possible doubt of his customer's politics, he added with a forced smile, "I reckon it's all party fuss, though; there ain't any real danger." But fast as Clarence might ride the words lingered in his ears.

He saw through the man's hesitation; he, too, had probably heard that Clarence Brant weakly sympathized with his wife's sentiments, and dared not speak fully.

And he understood the cowardly suggestion that there was "no real danger." It had been Clarence's one fallacy.