# The Man of Last Resort/The Governor's Machine/Chapter 7
#### VII

THE Secretary of State came slowly down the steps from Randolph Mason's office. At the entrance to the great building he stopped and looked up and down the busy, jostling thoroughfare. It had been but a few years since he was a grain in this vortex, and now that past seemed ages removed. He was not conscious of anything of interest in the very familiar scene. Just why he had stopped to look, this man would not have been quite able to explain. In truth, he was striving to obtain his mental bearings. He had been flung violently upon another view point, and he was endeavoring to comprehend the loom of this new land. His sensations were not unlike those of one who but an hour before had gone into the operating room of a surgeon, walking as he believed to his death, and now ​returned with the tumor dissected out, and the hope of life big in his bosom. The world was an entirely different place from what it had been some hours before, and the gambler's steps were firmer, and his ancient careless spirit had returned.
At this moment, as it pleased Fate, a cab stopped before a broker's office on the opposite-side of the street, and the Governor stepped out. The gambler darted across and caught his companion by the shoulder. The Governor turned suddenly.
“Well,” he said, in astonishment, “is this an assault vi et armis?”
“No,” said the gambler. “It's worse than that, Al. It's a mandamus. You are not to go in that broker's office.”
“Not to go in?” echoed the Executive. “Why not?”
“Al,” said the gambler, grinning like a Hindoo idol, “I said this here was a mandamus. I guess the judge don't ever explain 'why not' in a mandamus.”
“Good chancellor,” replied the Governor, with mock gravity, “I resist the order.”
​“On what ground?” said the lion. Ambercrombie Hergan, with such a sage judicial air as might obtain with a truck horse.
“First,” replied the Governor, “that the mandamus was improvidently awarded. Second, that the Court issuing the writ was without jurisdiction. And, third, that the act sought to be restrained is not entirely ministerial, but one largely within the discretion of the officer.”
“All them objections,” said the gambler, “this Court overrules.”
“But,” continued the Executive, “in this case the mandamus cannot lie. I move to quash the writ.”
“But it does lie,” asserted the powerful devotee of fortune, hooking his arm through that of the Executive and turning him down the street, “and she can't be squashed.”
The Governor had observed the very great change in the man, and knowing the Honorable Ambercrombie Hergan, he knew that this erratic person had chanced upon some solution for his dilemma—strange and but half-practical, the Governor had no doubt, but certainly ​not commonplace, and so he made no further offer of resistance.
“Al,” said the gambler, hurrying his companion through the crowded street, “do you know where you are going?”
“I have n't the slightest idea,” observed the Governor, with greatest unconcern.
“Well, I 'll tell you. You are going first to the hotel, then to the railroad, then to the Southwest, and you have just fifty-nine minutes between you and the train.”
The Governor stopped short. “I can't go, Bill. I must sell these stocks.”
“That's just the point,” said the gambler. “You aint going to sell them stocks. That's why I issued this here mandamus.” And he seized the Executive by the arm and fairly dragged him across the street.
“Bill,” protested the Governor, “Bill, this is all nonsense. It don't go.”
“Everything goes,” said the gambler. “Come on. We have lost three of them fifty-nine minutes already.”