He saw how Lawler's muscles had tensed, how his chin had gone forward with a vicious thrust--noted the awful indecision that had seized the man.

As the secretary watched, he realized that Lawler was on the verge of surrendering to the passions he was fighting--for Lawler had again taken up the cartridge belt and was opening his coat to buckle the belt around him.
"_Governor._" It was the secretary's voice.

It was low, conveying the respect that the man always used in addressing Lawler.

But the sound startled Lawler like the explosion of a bomb in the room.

He flashed around, saw the secretary--looked steadily at him for one instant, and then dropped the belt to the desk, tossed the pistols into the drawer and smiled mirthlessly.
"Governor," said the secretary; "your train is ready." The secretary stood within three yards of Lawler, and before he could turn to go out, Lawler had reached him.