The Governor sat behind his desk in the clear autumn sunlight. In
contrast to Fleetwood he seemed relaxed and unwieldy, and the face
he turned to his friend had a gray look of convalescence. Shackwell
wondered, with a start of apprehension, if he and Fleetwood had been
together.
He relieved himself of his overcoat without speaking, and when he
turned again toward Mornway he was surprised to find the latter
watching him with a smile.
"It's good to see you, Hadley," the Governor said.
"I waited to be sent for; I knew you'd let me know when you wanted
me," Shackwell replied.
"I didn't send for you on purpose. If I had, I might have asked your
advice, and I didn't want to ask anybody's advice but my own." The
Governor spoke steadily, but in a voice a trifle too well
disciplined to be natural. "I've had a three days' conference with
myself," he continued, "and now that everything is settled I want
you to do me a favor."
"Yes?" Shackwell assented. The private issues of the affair were
still wrapped in mystery to him, but he had never had a moment's
doubt as to its public solution, and he had no difficulty in
conjecturing the nature of the service he was to render.
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