"Then you are willing that others should have their rightful share?" put in Stevens. "Oh, I understand now, Senator."

"No, no, no!" cried Langdon. "You do not understand, Senator Stevens, and I must say I am ashamed to speak of you by the honorable title of Senator, sir. I will not listen to any person enriching himself at the Government's expense, and I am your enemy, you, Peabody, and you, Stevens, beyond recall. You both know you misrepresent me."

Langdon walked over to Stevens and faced him.

"Do you remember, Stevens, Lorimer Hawkslee, back in wartime?"

"Yes," said Stevens, puzzled, "I remember him—a very fine gentleman."

The old planter sneered.

"Yes, a very fine gentleman! You remember he got rich out of contracts for supplies furnished to the Confederate Government when it wasn't any too easy for the Confederate Government to pay and when he was in that Government himself. I never quite thought that the act of a gentleman, Stevens. It seemed to me to be very like dishonesty. I refused to speak to Lorimer Hawkslee in the Carroll Hotel at Vicksburg, and when the people there asked me why I told them. I want to warn you, Stevens, that I'm likely to meet you some time in the Carroll Hotel at Vicksburg."

Stevens backed away angrily. "I catch your insinuation, but"—he received a warning glance from Peabody and broke into a pleasant smile calculated to deceive the old planter—"this once I will overlook it because of our old friendship and the old days in Mississippi."

"You are a fine talker, Langdon," said Peabody, coming to Stevens' rescue, "but I can readily see what you are driving at. You want an investigation. You think you will catch some of us with what you reformers call 'the goods,' but forget evidently the entirely simple facts that your family has invested in Altacoola lands more heavily probably than any one else among us. You want to raise a scandal, do you? Well, go on and raise it, but remember that you will have to explain how it happened that there is $50,000 invested in the name of your son, and $25,000 in the name of your daughter, Miss Carolina, not to mention a few thousands put in by the gentleman who, I am given to understand, is to be your son-in-law, Congressman Norton.

"How about that, Norton?" Peabody asked, turning to the Congressman, who had followed Stevens.

"I corroborate all you've said," remarked Norton. "I can state positively that Senator Langdon knew that his money was going into Altacoola land. I will swear to it if necessary," and he glared bitterly at Carolina's father, feeling certain that the girl would cling to him as opposed to her parent.

Langdon made a threatening move at the Congressman.

"I consider my riddance of you mighty cheap at the price," he cried.

"Come, come, Langdon," fumed Peabody, "I must get away from here to catch the midnight train. Let's get through with this matter. You must realize that you cannot fight me in Washington. You must know that men call me the 'king of the Senate.' I can beat any measure you introduce. I can pass any measure you want passed. I can make you a laughing-stock or a power.

"Why, my friend from Mississippi, I can even have your election to the Senate contested, have a committee appointed to investigate the manner of your election, have that committee decide that you bought your way into the honorable body, the Senate of the United States, and on the strength of that decision have you forfeit your seat! What a pretty heritage to hand down to posterity such a disgrace will be! Why, the very school children of the future will hear about you as 'Looter Langdon,' and their parents will tell them how particularly degrading it was for a man of your reputation to drag into your dishonest schemes your son, sir, and your daughter. For who will believe that this money was not put in these lands without your consent, without your direction, your order? Did you not sign the mortgage on which this $50,000 was raised?"

Senator Langdon waved his hand deprecatingly. "I'm learning the under-handed ways of you professional politicians. I'm getting wise. I'm learning 'the game,' so I know you're bluffing me, Peabody. But you forget that the game of poker was invented in Mississippi—my native State."

Pressing a button, Langdon summoned a servant and said: "Send in Mr. Haines. I guess I've got to have a witness for my side."

"It's no bluff," spoke Stevens as Haines entered. "Peabody can and will break you like a pipestem; he's done it to other men before you who—who tried to dispute his power. But I'll try to save you. I'll ask him to be merciful. You are not of any importance in the Senate. We do not need to deal with you—"

"Then why do you both spend so much time on me?" asked Langdon innocently. "Why doesn't Peabody go to Philadelphia?"

"Langdon," said Peabody, "you know my control of the Senate is no piece of fiction. But I will forgive your obstinacy, even forget it. I—"

"Look here," cried Langdon, "just because I'm a fat man don't think that I can't lose my temper." He stopped and gazed at his two colleagues.

"Now, you two men stay still one moment, and I'll tell you what really will happen to-morrow," he exploded, "and I'm only a beginner in the game that's your specialty. The naval base is going to Altacoola—"

"Good!" simultaneously cried both Peabody and Stevens. "You're coming in with us?"

"No, I'm not, but I'll pass the bill so that nobody makes a cent, just as I said I would. I'll fool you both and make you both honest for once in spite of your natural dispositions."

Stevens and the Pennsylvanian stared at each other in disgust.

"Furthermore," continued Langdon, "Altacoola must have the base because I've known for some time that Gulf City was impossible. But some crooked Senators would have made money if they'd known it, so they didn't learn it. Altacoola, that proud arm of our great gulf, will have those battleships floating on her broad bosom and the country will be the better off, and so will the sovereign State of Mississippi—God bless it—but neither Senator Peabody of Pennsylvania nor Senator Stevens of Mississippi is going to be any better because of it. No, and if you men come to my committee room at 12:30 to-morrow noon you'll have a chance to hear how all that's coming about. If you are not there by that time I'll bring in a minority report in favor of Gulf City, just to show you that I know how to play the game—this Washington game—"

"Come, let's go. We can do nothing with him," said Peabody to the senior Senator from Mississippi.

"Well, Senator, in the name of goodness, what are you going to do? How can you win for Altacoola without letting these grafters make money out of it?" asked Haines in astonishment as the other two walked away. "What are you going to do at 12:30 to-morrow?"

Langdon turned to him and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling despairingly.

"I'm blamed if I know!" he exclaimed.



CHAPTER XXII

LOBBYISTS—AND ONE IN PARTICULAR

Washington has known many lobbyists in its time, and it keeps on knowing them. The striking increase in legislation that aims to restrict unlawful or improper practices in business, the awakening of the public conscience, has caused a greater demand than ever for influence at the national capital, for these restrictive measures must be either killed or emasculated to a point of uselessness by that process which is the salvation of many a corrupt manipulator, the process of amendment.

Predatory corporations, predatory business associations of different sorts and predatory individuals have their representatives on the field at Washington to ward off attack by any means that brains can devise or money procure and to obtain desired favors at a cost that will leave a profitable balance for the purchaser. When commercial tricksters, believing in the lobbyists' favorite maxim, "The People Forget," feel that they have outlived the latest reform movement and see "the good old days" returning, the professional politicians introduce a few reform measures themselves, most stringent measures. They push these measures ahead until somebody pays up, then the bills die. The lobbyist knows all about these "strike" bills, but does not frown on them. No, no. Per-haps he helped draw up one of these bills so that, with the aid of his inside knowledge of his employer's business, the measure is made to give a greater scare than might otherwise have resulted. The bigger the scare the bigger the fund advanced, of course, for the lobbyist to handle. All this also helps the lobbyist to secure and retain employment.

Not all the Washington lobbyists are outside of Congress. The Senator or Congressman has unequaled facilities for oiling or blocking the course of a bill. Sometimes he confines himself to the interests of his own clients, whoever they may be. But sometimes he notices a bill that promises to be a pretty good thing for the client of some other member if it passes. Then he begins to fight this bill so actively that he must be "let in on the deal" himself. This is very annoying to the other member, but the experience is worth something. He has learned the value of observing other people's legislation.

The outsiders (members of the "third house") and the insiders have a bond of freemasonry uniting them; they exchange information as to what members of both houses can be "reached," how they can be "got to" (through whom) and how much they want. This information is carefully tabulated, and now prices for passing or defeating legislation can be quoted to interested parties just as the price of a carload of pork can be ascertained at a given time and place. Perhaps it is this system that leads grafting members of short experience to wonder how knowledge of their taking what is termed "the sugar" got out and became known to their associates. Did they not have pledge of absolute secrecy? Yes, but the purchaser never intended to keep the information from those of his kind. Lobbyists must be honest with each other.

Not all lobbyists are men. The woman legislative agent has been known to occupy an important position in Washington, and she does yet. She is hard to detect and frequently more unprincipled than the men similarly engaged, if that is possible.

A woman with a measure of social standing would naturally prove the most successful as a lobbyist in Washington because of the opportunities her position would afford her to meet people of prominence. And just such a one was Mrs. Cora Spangler, with whom the Langdons had been thrown in contact quite intimately since their arrival at the capital.

Pretty and vivacious, Mrs. Spangler bore her thirty-seven years with uncommon ease, aided possibly by the makeup box and the modiste. Her dinners and receptions were attended by people of acknowledged standing. Always a lavish spender of money, this was explained as possible because of a fortune left her by her late husband, Congressman Spangler of Pennsylvania. That this "fortune" had consisted largely of stock and bonds of a bankrupt copper smelting plant in Michigan remained unknown, except to her husband's family, one or two of her own relatives and Senator Peabody, who, coming from Pennsylvania, had known her husband intimately.

He it was who had suggested to her that she might make money easily by cultivating the acquaintance of the new members of both houses and their families, exerting her influence in various "perfectly legitimate ways," he argued, for or against matters pending in legislation. The Standard Steel corporation kept Mrs. Spangler well supplied with funds deposited monthly to her account in a Philadelphia trust company.

She avoided suspicion by reason of her sex and her many acquaintances of undisputed rank. Senator Peabody was never invited to her home, had never attended a single dinner, reception or musicale she had given, all of which was a part of the policy they had mutually agreed on to deaden any suspicion that might some time arise as to her relation to the Standard Steel Company. It was well known that Peabody had been put into the Senate by Standard Steel to look after its interests.

He had found Mrs. Spangler chiefly valuable thus far as a source of information regarding the members of Congress, which she obtained largely from their families. He was thus able to gain an idea of their associations, their particular interests and their aspirations in coming to Congress, which proved of much use to him in forming and promoting acquaintances, all for the glory of Standard Steel.

Senator Holcomb of Missouri told Mrs. Spangler at an afternoon tea confidentially that he was going to vote against the ship subsidy bill. Senator Peabody was informed of this two hours later by a note written in cipher. When the vote was called two days later Senator Holcomb voted for the bill. Standard Steel supplies steel for ocean liners, and their building must be encouraged.

Mrs. Windsor, wife of Congressman Windsor of Indiana, remarked to Mrs. Spangler at a reception that she was "so glad Jimmie is going to do something for us women at last. He says we ought to get silk gowns ever so much cheaper next year," Jimmie Windsor was a member of the House committee on ways and means and was busily engaged in the matter of tariff revision. When President Anders of the Federal Silk Company heard from Senator Peabody that Windsor favored lowering the tariff on silk a way was found to convince the Congressman that the American silk industry was a weakling, and many investors would suffer if the foreign goods should be admitted any cheaper than at present.

President Anders would be willing to do Senator Peabody a favor some day.

Sometimes Cora Spangler shuddered at the thought of what would become of her if she should make some slip, some fatal error, and be discovered to her friends as a betrayer of confidences for money. A secret agent of Standard Steel! What a newspaper story she would make—"Society Favorite a Paid Spy"; "Woman Lobbyist Flees Capital." The sensational headlines flitted through her mind. Then she would grit her teeth and dig her finger nails into her palms. She had to have money to carry on the life she loved so well. She must continue as she had begun. After all, she reasoned, nothing definite could ever be proved regarding the past. Let the future care for itself. She might marry again and free herself from this mode of life—who knows?

So reasoned Cora Spangler for the hundredth time during the last two years as she sat in her boudoir at her home. She had spent part of the day with Carolina and Hope Langdon and in the evening had attended the musicale at their house. But she had been forced to leave early owing to a severe headache. Now, after an hour or two of rest, she felt better and was about to retire. Suddenly the telephone bell rang at a writing-table near a window. She had two telephones, one in the lower hall and one in her boudoir—to save walking downstairs unnecessarily, she explained to her woman friends. But the number of this upstairs telephone was not in the public book. It had a private number, known to but two people except herself.

Taking down the receiver, she asked in low voice, "Hello! Who is it?"

"Mr. Wall."

It was the name Senator Peabody used in telephone conversation with her.

"Yes, Congressman!" she responded.

She always said, "Yes, Congressman," in replying to "Mr. Wall," a prearranged manner of indicating that he was talking to the desired person.

"I will need your services to-morrow," Senator Peabody said, "on a very important matter, I am afraid. Decline any engagements and hold yourself in readiness."

"Yes."

"I may send my friend S. to explain things at 10:30 in the morning. If he does not arrive at that time, telephone me at 10:35 sharp. You know where. Understand? I have put off going to Philadelphia to-night."

"Yes."

"That is all; good-by."

"Something very important," she murmured nervously as she turned from the desk.

"I don't like his tone of voice; sounds strained and worried—something unusual for the cold, flinty gentleman from Pennsylvania. And his 'friend S.,' of course, means Stevens! Great heavens! then Stevens must now have knowledge of my—my—business!"

She calmed herself and straightened a dainty, slender finger against her cheek.

"It must be something about that naval base bill, I'm sure. That's been worrying Peabody all session," she mused as she pressed a button to summon her maid.



CHAPTER XXIII

"THE BOSS OF THE SENATE" GAINS A NEW ALLY

Mrs. Spangler would have flattered herself on guessing correctly as to Senator Peabody's uneasiness had she heard and seen all that had taken place in his apartment at the Louis Napoleon Hotel, where he had hurriedly taken Senator Stevens on leaving the Langdon house.

Not only would the two Senators lose their immense profits on the Altacoola transaction if Langdon persisted in his opposition, but they would lose as well the thousands of dollars spent by their agents in purchasing options on hundreds of acres, and where they could not get options, the land itself. This land would be on their hands, unsalable, if the base went somewhere else. Moreover, they feared that Langdon's revolt would bring unpleasant newspaper publicity to their operations.

"There's only one course to pursue, Stevens," snapped Peabody as they took off their overcoats. "That is to be prepared as best we can for the very worst and meet it in some way yet to be determined. But first we must try to figure out what Langdon is going to do—what it can be that he says he will tell us to-morrow at 12:30 if we appear. He must have something very startling up his sleeve if he makes good his assertions. I can't see how—"

"Nor I," frowned Stevens, "and my political eyesight is far better than that fool Langdon's. Under ordinary circumstances we could let him go ahead with his minority report for Gulf City, but as things stand he'll have every newspaper reporter in Washington buzzing around and asking impertinent questions—"

"Yes, and you and I would have to go to Paris to live with our life insurance friends from New York, wouldn't we?" laughed Peabody sarcastically. "I'm going to send for Jake Steinert," he added.

"Steinert?" Stevens ejaculated. "What—"

"Oh, that's all right. Maybe he can suggest something," said Peabody, going to the telephone. "We've too much at stake to make a mistake, and Jake may see a point that we've overlooked. Luckily I saw him downstairs in the grill-room as we came through to the elevator."

"Steinert is all right himself," continued Stevens, "but his methods—"

"Can't be too particular now about his methods—or ours, Stevens, when a bull like Langdon breaks loose in the political china shop. Fortune and reputation are both fragile."

A ring of a bell announced the arrival of Jake Steinert, whose reputation as a lobbyist of advanced ability had spread wide in the twenty years he had spent in Washington. Of medium height, sallow complexion, dark hair and dark eyes, his broad shoulders filled the doorway as he entered. An illy kept mustache almost hid a thin-lipped, forceful mouth, almost as forceful as some of the language he used. His eyes darted first to Peabody and then to Stevens, waiting for either of them to open the conversation.

The highest class lobbyists, those who "swing" the "biggest deals," concern themselves only with men who can "handle" or who control lawmakers. They get regular reports and outline the campaign. Like crafty spiders they hide in the center of a great web, a web of bribery, threat, cajolery and intrigue, intent on every victim that is lured into the glistening meshes.

Only the small fry mingle freely with the legislators in the open, in the hotels and cafes and in the Capitol corridors.

Jake Steinert did not belong in either of these classes; he ranked somewhere between the biggest and the smallest. He coupled colossal boldness with the most expert knowledge of all the intricate workings of the congressional mechanism. Given money to spend among members to secure the defeat of a bill, he would frequently put most of the money in his own pocket and for a comparatively small sum defeat it by influencing the employees through whose hands it must pass.

"Sit down, Jake. Something to drink?" asked Peabody, reaching for a decanter.

"No," grunted the lobbyist; "don't drink durin' business hours; only durin' the day."

"Well, Jake," said the Pennsylvanian, "you probably know something of what's going on in the naval affairs committee."

"You mean the biggest job of the session?"

"Yes."

"Sure thing, Senator. It's the work of an artist."

"The boss of the Senate" smiled grimly.

"Now, suppose a committeeman named Langdon absolutely refused to be taken care of, and insisted on handing in a minority report to-morrow, with a speech that read like the Declaration of Independence?"

Steinert jerked his head forward quickly.

"You mean what would I do if I was—er—if I was runnin' the job?"

"Yes."

Steinert leaned toward Peabody.

"Where do I come in on this?" he asked, suspiciously.

"Come, come, man," was the irritable retort. "I never let a few dollars stand between myself and my friends."

"All right, Senator."

The lobbyist thrust himself down in his chair, puffed slowly at a cigar, and gazed thoughtfully at the ceiling.

"Few years ago," he began, after a minute or two, "there was a feller who was goin' to squeal about a bond issue. He had his speech all really to warn the country that he thought a crowd of the plutocracy was goin' to get the bonds to resell to the public at advanced rates. Well, sir, I arranged to have a carriage, a closed carriage, call that night to take him to see the President, for he was told the President sent the carriage for him. When he got out he was at the insane asylum, an' I can tell you he was bundled into a padded cell in jig time, where he stayed for three days. 'He thinks he's a member of Congress,' I told the two huskies that handled him, an' gave 'em each a twenty-case note. The doctor that signed the necessary papers got considerable more."

Stevens' gasp of amazement caused the narrator genuine enjoyment.

"I know of a certain Senator who was drunk an' laid away in a Turkish bath when the roll was called on a certain bill. He was a friend of Peabody's," laughed the lobbyist to the Mississippian.

"But in this case," said Stevens, "we must be very careful. Possibly some of your methods in handling the men you go after—"

"Say," interposed Steinert, "you know I don't do all pursuin', all the goin' after, any more than others in my business. Why, Senator, some of these Congressmen worry the life out of us folks that sprinkle the sugar. They accuse us of not lettin' 'em in on things when they haven't been fed in some time. They come down the trail like greyhounds coursin' a coyote."

The speaker paused and glanced across at Peabody, who, however, was too busily engaged in writing in a memorandum book to notice him.

"Why, Senator Stevens," went on the lobbyist, "only to-day a Down East member held me up to tell me that he was strong for that proposition to give the A.K. and L. railroad grants of government timber land in Oregon. He says to me, he says: 'What'n h—l do my constituents in New England care about things 'way out on the Pacific Coast? I'd give 'em Yellowstone National Park for a freight sidin' if 'twas any use to 'em,' he says. So you see—"

"I must go," broke in Stevens, rising and glancing at his watch. "It will soon be daylight."

"If you must have sleep, go; but you must be here at 9 o'clock sharp in the morning," said Peabody. "Steinert will sleep here with me. We'll all have breakfast together here in my rooms and a final consultation."

"You won't plan anything really desperate, Peabody, will you? I think I'd rather—"

"Nonsense, Stevens, of course not. Our game will be to try to weaken Langdon, to prove to him in the morning that he alone will suffer, because our names do not appear in the land deals. The options were signed and the deeds signed by our agents. Don't you see? Whereas his daughter and son and future son-in-law actually took land in their own names."

"How clumsy!"

"Yes. Such amateurism lowers the dignity of the United States Senate," Peabody answered, dryly.

"But suppose Langdon does not weaken?" asked Stevens, anxiously, as he picked up his hat and coat.

"Then we will go into action with our guns loaded," was the reply.



CHAPTER XXIV.

THE HONEYBIRD

In the African jungle dwells a pretty little bird that lives on honey. The saccharine dainty is there found in the hollows of trees and under the bark, where what is known as the carpenter bee bores and deposits his extract from the buds and blossoms of the tropical forest.

The bird is called the "honeybird" because it is a sure guide to the deposits of the delicacy. The bird dislikes the laborious task of pecking its way through the bark to reach the honey, and so, wise in the ways of men, it procures help. It locates a nest of honey, then flies about until it sees some natives or hunters, to whom it shows itself. They know the honeybird and know that it will lead them to the treasure store. Following the bird, which flits just in advance, they reach the cache of dripping sweetness and readily lay it open with hatchets or knives. Taking what they want, there is always enough left clinging to the tree and easily accessible to satisfy the appetite of the clever little bird.

Senator Stevens of Mississippi bears a marked resemblance to the honeybird—so much so that he has well won the bird's appellation for himself. Abnormally keen at locating possibilities for extracting "honey" from the governmental affairs in Washington, he invariably led Peabody, representing the hunter with the ax, to the repository. He would then rely on the Pennsylvanian's superior force to break down the barriers. Stevens would flutter about and gather up the leavings.

Equally as mercenary as "the boss of the Senate," he lacked Peabody's iron nerve, determination, resourcefulness and daring. He needed many hours of sleep. Peabody could work twenty hours at a stretch. He had to have his meals regularly or else suffer from indigestion. Peabody sometimes did a day's work on two boiled eggs and a cup of coffee.

The senior Senator from Mississippi had been the first to point out to Peabody the possibilities for profit in the gulf naval base project, but the morning following the conference with Steinert when he rejoined them for breakfast at the Louis Napoleon he was far from comfortable. He did not mind fighting brain against brain, even though unprincipled methods were resorted to, but indications were that more violent agencies would be called into play owing to the complications that had arisen.

Stevens ate heartily to strengthen his courage. Steinert ate hugely to strengthen his body. Peabody ate scarcely anything at all—to strengthen his brain.

Waving away the hotel waiter who had brought the breakfast to his apartment, Senator Peabody outlined the probable campaign of the day.

"If our best efforts to weaken and scare off Langdon fail to-day," he said, "it will naturally develop that we must render it impossible in some way for him to appear in the Senate at all, or we must delay his arrival until after the report of the committee on naval affairs has been made. In either event he would not have another opportunity to speak on that subject.

"Of course, later, at 12:30, we will know his plan of action. Then we can act to the very point, but we must be prepared for any situation that can arise."

"Cannot the President of the Senate be persuaded not to recognize Langdon on the floor? Then we could adjourn and shut him off," asked Stevens.

"No," responded Peabody; "he has already promised Langdon to recognize him, and the President of the Senate cannot be persuaded to break his word. I am painfully aware of this fact."

But Stevens was not yet dissuaded from the hope of defeating the junior Senator from Mississippi by wit alone.

"Can we not have a speaker get the floor before Langdon and have him talk for hours—tire out the old kicker—and await a time when he leaves the Senate chamber to eat or talk to some visitor we could have call on him, then shove the bill through summarily?" he suggested.

"I've gone over all that." answered Peabody, quickly. "It would only be delaying the evil hour. You wouldn't be able to move that old codger away from the Senate chamber with a team of oxen—once he gets to his seat. His secretary, Raines—another oversight of yours, Stevens"—the latter winced—"will warn him. Langdon would stick pins through his eyelids to keep from falling asleep."

"I've been thinkin'," put in Steinert, slowly, "that a little fine-esse like this might keep him away: When Langdon's in his committee room before goin' to the Senate send him a telegram signed by one of his frien's' name that one of his daughters is dyin' from injuries in a automobile collision a few miles out o' town. That 'ud—"

"Ridiculous," snorted Peabody. "He'd know where they were. They're always—"

"Huh! then put in more fine-esse."

"How? What?"

"Hev some 'un take 'em out a-autoin'—"

"No, no, man!" snapped Peabody. "They'd stick in town to hear their father's wonderful speech."

"Well," went on the lobbyist, "I'll hev Langd'n watched by a careful picked man, a nigger that won't talk. He'll pick a row with the Colonel on some street, say, w'en he's comin' from his home after lunch. The coon kin bump into Langd'n an' call him names. Then w'en ole fireworks sails into 'im, yellin' about what 'e'd do in Mississippi, the coon pulls a gun on the Colonel an' fires a couple o' shots random. Cops come up, an' our pertickeler copper'll lug Langd'n away as a witness, refusin' to believe 'e's a Senator. I kin arrange to hev him kept in the cooler a couple o' hours without gettin' any word out, or I'll hev 'im entered up as drunk an' disorderly. He'll look drunk, he'll be so mad."

"But the negro—how could you get a man to undergo arrest on such a serious charge, attempted murder!" exclaimed Stevens.

"There, there," said Steinert, patronizingly; "coons has more genteel home life in jail than they does out. An' don't forget the District of Columbia is governed by folks that ain't residents of it, only durin' the session. Th' politicians don't leave their frien's in the cooler very long. Say, Senator Stevens, are you kiddin' me? Is it any different down in your—"

The Mississippian choked and spluttered over a gulp of unusually hot coffee, and Peabody again decided Steinert to be on the wrong tack.

"That proceeding would attract too much attention from the newspapers," he added.

"Well, I thought you wanted to win," grunted Steinert. "I've been offerin' you good stuff, too—new stuff. None of yer druggin' with chloroform or ticklin' with blackjacks. Why, I've gone from fine-esse to common sense. But, come to think of it, how about some woman? I c'n get one to introduce to—"

"This is the wrong kind of a man," interrupted Peabody.

"Unless you got the right kind of a woman," went on Steinert.

Senator Stevens choked some more.

"The boss of the Senate" sank down in his chair, crossed one knee over the other and drummed his fingers lightly on the table. He gazed thoughtfully at Stevens.

"Yes," he observed, slowly, "unless you've got the right sort of a woman."

Rising, he led the Mississippian to one side.

The lobbyist heard the Southerner give a short exclamation of astonishment as Peabody whispered to him.

"It's all right. It's all right," he then heard the Pennsylvanian say, irritably. "She'll understand. She can be trusted. She expects you."

Stevens gave a violent start at the last assurance, but his colleague hurriedly helped him into his coat.

"Go in a closed carriage," was Peabody's final warning. "Be sure to tell her to get hold of his two daughters on some pretext at once. She knows them well. Maybe we can influence the old man through his girls, don't you see?"

And while Senator Peabody and Jake Steinert recurred to a previous discussion concerning one J.D. Telfer, Mayor of Gulf City, Senator Stevens started on the most memorable drive of his career on this bright winter morning, to the house of the fascinating Mrs. Spangler—who for the past week had been considering his proposal of marriage.



CHAPTER XXV

CAROLINA LANGDON'S RENUNCIATION

Senator Langdon's committee room at the Capitol presented a busy scene at an unusually early hour the morning after the entertainment at his home. Bud Haines, reinstated as secretary, was picking up the thread of routine where he had dropped it the day before, though his frequent thought of Hope and the words that had thrilled him—"I love you, I love you fondly"—made this task unusually difficult. He impatiently wished the afternoon to hasten along, as he knew he would then see her in the Senate gallery, where she would go to hear her father's speech.

This speech had to be revised in some particulars by Bud, and the work he knew would take up much of the morning. The Senator's speech was "The South of the Future," which he would deliver when recognized by the President of the Senate in connection with the naval base bill, that officer having agreed to recognize Langdon at 3:30, at which time the report of the naval affairs committee would be received. Just how Langdon would turn the tables on Peabody and Stevens and yet win for the Altacoola site not even the ex-newspaper man, experienced in politics, had solved. Clearly the Senator would have to do some tall thinking during the morning.

The junior Senator from Mississippi burst into the office with his habitual cheery greeting, his broad-brimmed black felt hat in its usual position on the back of his head, like a symbol of undying defiance.

"A busy day for us, eh, Senator?" queried Bud.

"Now, look here, my boy, don't begin to remind me of work right off," he said, with a humorous gleam in his eye. "Go easy on me. Don't forget I'm her father."

Bud laughed through the flush that rose in his cheeks.

"No, I won't forget that. But have you decided what to tell Peabody and Stevens as your plan of action if they come in here at 12:30?"

"If they come?" exclaimed Langdon. "They'll come. Watch 'em."

Then he hesitated, worriedly.

"I'll have to incubate an idea between now and noon, somehow. But don't forget this, Bud—we're worried about them, true enough, but they're worried a heap more about us."

Senator Langdon stepped into an adjoining room, where he could be alone, to "incubate."

As Haines resumed his work Carolina Langdon entered.

Avoiding the secretary's direct gaze, she asked for her father.

"He ought to be back shortly, Miss Langdon," responded Haines. "You can wait here. I must ask pardon for leaving, as I must run over to the library."

As the secretary bowed himself out of the door he almost collided with Congressman Norton. Both glared at each other and remained silent.

"Carolina," spoke Norton, as he entered, "I hope—I know you won't allow your father to influence you against me—because of last night. I—"

Carolina would rather not have met Charles Norton on this morning. She had hardly slept for the night. She had fought a battle with herself. Her father had shown her plainly the mistake she had made. She saw that her influence had not been without effect on Randolph. Probably for the first time she realized that there are glory and luxury, pleasure and prestige for which too big a price can be paid.

The Senator's daughter turned slowly and faced the man she had promised to marry.

"Charlie, I have come to a decision. I came here to talk with father about it."

Norton started toward Carolina, a look of apprehension on his face. He gathered from the trend of her words and her demeanor that she had turned against him.

"You couldn't be so cruel, Carolina," he protested.

"Charlie," she went on, determinedly, "I will always cherish our friendship, our happy younger days down in Mississippi, but, I must give up thinking of you as my future husband. We've both made a mistake, mine probably greater than yours, but I now am convinced that I should not marry you. Your way of thinking about life is all wrong, and you are too deeply entangled with the dishonest men in Washington to draw back. I cannot love you."

"But I am doing it all for your sake, Carolina. Don't let an old-fashioned father come between a man and a woman and their love," he cried.

"Charlie, I must give you up."

The girl turned to one side, as though to give Norton a chance to leave.

He looked at her in silence for a moment or two. Then a change came into his bearing. Wrinkling his face into a sneer, he stepped before the girl.

"You've been converted mighty sudden, I reckon, from land speculating to preaching—and preaching, too, against folks who tried to make a fortune for you."

Norton stopped, expecting a reply, but the girl remained silent.

"You think I'm done for, that I've lost my money; that's why you turned from me so quickly," he laughed, scornfully. "But I'll show you, you and your blundering old father. I'll win you yet, and I'll ruin your father's political reputation. I'll—"

"Are you quite sure about that?" spoke a voice, sharply, behind the Congressman. He swung around vigorously. Bud Haines had returned in time to hear Norton's threat.

"Yes; and while I'm doing that I'll take time to show you up, too, somehow. I guess a Congressman's word will count against that of a cheap secretary—that's what Miss Langdon said you were."

Carolina looked appealingly to Haines to rid her of the presence of this man, whose last words she knew Haines would not believe.

But Norton had had his say. He retreated to the door.

"Miss Langdon," he cried, as he backed out and away, "you have an idea that I am dishonest, but kindly remember that, whatever you think I am, I never was a hypocrite."

Haines advanced and procured a chair for Miss Langdon.

"I'm very sorry to have come back at such a time," he began.

The girl cut him short with a gesture.

"I want to say to you," she said, then halted—"that I want to be friends with you. I want you to forget the happenings of yesterday—last evening—so far as I was concerned in them. I want to work together with you and father—and so does Randolph. Father and you are standing together to uphold the honor of the Langdons of Mississippi, and Randolph and I, no matter the cost of our former folly, want to share in that work."

Before Haines could reply Senator Langdon burst into the room.

"Bud! Bud!" he cried, "I've got it! I've got it!"

"You've got what, Senator?" exclaimed the secretary.

"That idea, my boy, that idea! It's incubated all right, and Peabody and Stevens can come just as soon as they want to."



CHAPTER XXVI

THE BATTLES OF WASHINGTON

At twenty minutes after 12 Senator Langdon and Secretary Haines were still undisturbed by any move on the part of Peabody and Stevens, who maintained a silence that to Haines was distinctly ominous. His experience at the Capitol had taught him that when the Senate machine was quiet it was time for some one to get out from under.

Miss Williams, the naval committee's stenographer, entered.

"Senator Langdon," she said, "Senator Peabody and Senator Stevens are in committee room 6, and they told me to tell you that they'd be—I can't say it. Please, sir, I—"

"D—d," interpolated Langdon, laughing.

"Yes, sir, that's it. They'll be—that—if they come in here at 12:30. You must come to them, they say."

"Tell the gentlemen I'm sitting here with my hat on the back of my head, smoking a good see-gar, with nails driven through both shoes into the floor—and looking at the clock."

At 12:25 Senator Stevens entered.

"I came to warn you, Langdon," he said, "that Senator Peabody's patience is nearly exhausted. You must come to see him at once if you expect the South to get a naval base at Altacoola or anywhere else. If you do not agree to take his advice this naval bill and any other that you are interested in now or in future will be trampled underfoot in the Senate. Mississippi will have no use for a Senator who cannot produce results in Washington, and that will prove the bitterest lesson you have ever learned."

"I'm waiting for Peabody here, Stevens."

"Oh, ridiculous! Of course he's not coming. Why, Langdon, he's the king of the Senate. He has the biggest men of the country at his call. He's—"

"He's got one minute left," observed Langdon, looking at the clock, "but he'll come. I trust Peabody more than the best clock made at a time like this, when—"

The figure of the senior Senator from Pennsylvania appeared in the doorway.

"Good-day, Senator Langdon," he remarked, icily.

"Same to you. Have a see-gar, Senator?" said Langdon. He turned and winked significantly at Haines.

The three Senators seated themselves.

"I suppose you wouldn't consider yourself so important, Langdon, if you knew that we now find we can get another member of the naval affairs committee over to our side for Altacoola?" began Peabody. "That gives us a majority of the committee without your vote."

"That wouldn't prevent me from making a minority report for Gulf City and explaining why I made that report, would it?" the Mississippian asked, blandly.

Peabody and Stevens both knew that it wouldn't. Stevens exchanged glances with "the boss of the Senate," and in low voice began making to Langdon a proposition to which Peabody's assent had been gained.

"Langdon, we would like to be alone," and he nodded toward Haines.

"Sorry can't oblige, Senator," Langdon replied. "Bud and I together make up the Senator from Mississippi."

"All right. What I want to say is this: The President is appointing a commission to investigate the condition of the unemployed. The members are to go to Europe, five or six countries, and look into conditions there, leisurely, of course, so as to formulate a piece of legislation that will solve the existing problems in this country. A most generous expense account will be allowed by the Government. A member can take his family. A son, for instance, could act as financial secretary under liberal pay."

"I've heard of that commission," said Langdon.

"Well, Senator Peabody has the naming of two Senators who will go on that commission, and I suggested that your character and ability would make you—"

"Good glory!" exclaimed Langdon. "You mean that my character and ability would make me something or other if I kept my mouth shut in the Senate this afternoon! Stevens, I've been surprised so many times since I came to the capital that it doesn't affect me any more. I'm just amused at your offer or Senator Peabody's.

"I want to tell you two Senators that there's only one thing that I want in Washington—and you haven't offered it to me yet. When you do I'll do business with you."

"What's that? Speak out, man!" said Peabody, quickly.

"A square deal for the people of the United States."

"Good Lord!" exclaimed "the boss of the Senate. Is this Washington or is it heaven?"

"It is not heaven, Senator," put in Haines.

"Man alive!" cried Peabody, "I've been in Washington so long that—"

"So long that you've forgotten that the American people really exist," retorted Langdon; "and there are more like you in the Senate, all because the voters have no chance to choose their own Senators. The public in most States have to take the kind of a Senator that the Legislature, made up mostly of politicians, feels like making them take. You, Peabody, wouldn't be in the Senate to-day if the voters had anything to say about it."

The Pennsylvanian shrugged his shoulders.

"And now I'll tell you honorable Senators," went on Langdon, thoroughly aroused, "something to surprise you. I have discovered that you were not working for yourselves alone in the Altacoola deal, but that you intend to turn your land over to the Standard Steel Company at a big profit as soon as this naval base bill is passed. Then that company will squeeze the Government for the best part of the hundred millions that are to be spent."

The Senator sank back in his chair and gazed at his two opponents.

Those two statesmen jumped to their feet.

"Come, Stevens, let him do what he will. We cannot stay here to be insulted by the ravings of a madman," cried the Pennsylvanian. But he brought his associate to a standstill midway to the door. "By the way, Langdon, what is it you are going to do in the Senate this afternoon?" he asked, "You said you were going to make us honest against our will. You know you can't do anything."

Bud Haines turned his face toward the speaker and grinned broadly, to the Senator's intense discomfort.

"I'll do more than that," announced Langdon, rising and pounding a fist into his open hand. "I'll make you and Stevens more popular than you ever were in your lives before."

"Bah!" shouted Peabody.

"I'll do even more yet. I'm going to make you generous—patriots. And, I regret to say, I'll give you the chance to make the hits of your careers."

The polished hypocrites looked at him, too astonished to move.

"How? What?" they gasped.

Swept on by his own enthusiasm and the force of his own courageous honesty, the voice of the Southerner rose to oratorical height.

"This afternoon," he exclaimed, "when the naval base committee makes its report, I will rise in my place and declare that for once in the history of the Senate men have been found who place the interests of the Government they serve above any chance of pecuniary reward. These men are the members of the naval base committee.

"With this idea in view, realizing that dishonest men would try to make money out of the Government, these members of the naval base committee, after they settled on Altacoola, went out quietly and secured control of all the land that will be needed for the naval base, and these men secured this at a very nominal figure. Now they are ready to turn over their land to the Government at exactly what they paid for it, without a cent of profit.

"Then they're going to sit up over there in that Senate. They're going to realize that a new kind of politics has arrived in Washington—the kind that I and lots of others always thought there was here.

"And, gentlemen"—he advanced on his colleagues triumphantly—"when I, Senator Langdon of Mississippi, your creation in politics, have finished that speech, I dare one of you to get up and deny a word!"

"The boss of the Senate" and his satellite were dumfounded. Firmly believing that Langdon could find no way to pass the bill for Altacoola and yet spoil their crooked scheme, they were totally unprepared for any such denouement. To think that a simple, old-fashioned planter from the cotton fields of Mississippi could originate such a plan to outwit the two ablest political tricksters in the Senate!

Langdon eyed his colleagues triumphantly.

Peabody, however, was thinking quickly. He was never beaten until the last vote was counted on a roll call. He knew that, no matter how apparently insurmountable an opposition was, a way to overcome it might often be found by the man who exercises strong self-control and a trained brain. This corrupt victor in scores of bitter political engagements on the battlefield of Washington was now in his most dangerous mood. He would marshal all his forces. The man to defeat him now must defeat the entire Senate machine and the allies it could gain in an emergency; he must overcome the power of Standard Steel; he must fight the resourceful brain of the masterful Peabody himself.

Peabody whispered to Stevens, "We must pretend to be beaten,"



Then the Pennsylvanian advanced, smiling, to Langdon and held out his hand.

"Senator Langdon," he said, "I'm beaten. You've beaten the leader of the Senate, something difficult to believe. What's more, you've given me the chance of a lifetime to become known as a public benefactor. As soon as you've finished your speech in the Senate I will get up and make another one—to second yours. Here's my hand. Anything you may ever want out of Peabody in the future shall be yours for the asking."

Langdon refused to grasp the proffered hand.

Senator Stevens made a show of protesting against his superior's seeming surrender.

"But," he objected, "look here—"

Peabody turned upon him instantly.

"Oh, shut up, Stevens; don't be a fool. Come on in. The water's fine."

The pair of schemers, with Norton at their heels, turned away.

The Pennsylvanian drew Stevens into committee room 6 and, ordering the stenographer to leave, drew up chairs where both could sit, facing the door.

"We've thrown dust in that old gander's eyes," whispered Peabody. "It's now ten after 1. He is to be recognized to make his speech at 3:30. That gives us two hours and twenty minutes—"

"Yes, but for what?" asked Stevens, excitedly. "I've been trying myself to think of something. What will you do—what can you do?"

"The boss of the Senate" smiled patronizingly on the senior Senator from Mississippi, as though amused and scornful of his limitations as a strategist, as a tenacious fighter. Then his jaw set hard, and his brows contracted.

"I will not do anything. I cannot do anything"—he hesitated a full ten seconds—"but Jake Steinert can."

Stevens' hands twitched nervously.

"And," continued Peabody, "I'm expecting a 'phone call from him any moment. I told him this morning that he might be able to make $1,000 before night if—"

The telephone bell at the desk interrupted him.

Peabody leaned over and eagerly clutched the receiver.

The senior Senator from Mississippi jerked himself to his feet. He stood at a window and looked out over the roof tops of the city.



CHAPTER XXVII

MRS. SPANGLER GIVES A LUNCHEON

When Senators Peabody and Stevens had gone Langdon and Bud went over the situation together and concluded that their opponents had no means of defeating Langdon's program—that, after all, Peabody might really have meant his words of surrender.

"But they might try foul play. Better stay right here in the Capitol the rest of the day," suggested Bud.

Langdon scoffed at the idea.

Haines bustled away to get a few mouthfuls of lunch to fortify himself for a busy afternoon—one that was going to be far busier than he imagined.

The telephone bell rang at the Senator's desk. It was Mrs. Spangler's voice that spoke.

"Senator Langdon," she said, "Carolina and Hope Georgia are here at my home for luncheon, and we all want you to join us."

"Sorry I cannot accept," answered the Mississippian, "but I am to make an important speech this afternoon—"

"Oh, yes, I know. The girls and I are coming to hear it. But you have two hours' time, and if you come we can all go over to the Senate together. Now, Senator, humor us a little. Don't disappoint the girls and me. We can all drive over to the Capitol in my carriage."

The planter hesitated, then replied: "All right. I'll be over, but it mustn't be a very long luncheon."

"Gone to eat; back by 3 o'clock," he scratched quickly on a pad on the secretary's desk, and departed.

Mrs. Spangler's luncheons were equally as popular in Washington as Senator Langdon's dinners. The Mississippian and his daughters enjoyed the delicacies spread lavishly before them.

Time passed quickly. The old planter enjoyed seeing his daughters have so happy a time, and he was not insensible to the charm of his hostess' conversation, for Mrs. Spangler had studied carefully the art of ingratiating herself with her guests.

Suddenly realizing that he had probably reached the limit of the time he could spare, the Senator drew out his watch.

"What a stunning fob you wear," quickly spoke Mrs. Spangler, reaching out her hand and taking the watch from her guest's hands as the case snapped open.

"Oh, that's Carolina's doings," laughed Langdon. "She said the old gold chain that my grandfather left me was—"

"Why, how lovely," murmured Mrs. Spangler, glancing at the watch. "We have plenty of time yet. Won't have to hurry. Your time is the same as mine," she added, nodding her head toward a French renaissance clock on the black marble mantel.

As the hostess did this she deftly turned back the hands of the Senator's watch thirty-five minutes.

"Do you care to smoke, Senator," Mrs. Spangler asked, as her guests concluded their repast, "if the young ladies do not object?"

Langdon inclined his head gratefully, and laughed.

"They wouldn't be Southern girls, I reckon, if they didn't want to see a man have everything to make him happy—er, I beg pardon, Mrs. Spangler, I mean, comfortable. Nobody that's your guest could be unhappy."

The hostess beamed on the chivalrous Southerner.

Langdon drew forth a thick black perfecto and settled back luxuriously in his chair, after another glance at Mrs. Spangler's clock. He was absorbed in a mental resume of his forthcoming speech and did not hear the next words of the woman, addressed pointedly to his daughters.

"Do you know, really, why this luncheon was given to-day?" she queried. Then she continued before Carolina and Hope Georgia could formulate replies:

"Because your father and I wanted to take this opportunity to announce to you—our engagement."

The speaker smiled her sweetest smile.

The two girls gazed at each other in uncontrollable amazement, then at Mrs. Spangler, then at their father, who had turned partly away from the table and was gazing abstractedly at the ceiling.

Hope Georgia was the first to regain her voice.

"Oh, Mrs. Spangler," she ejaculated, "you are very kind to marry father, but—"

"What's that?" exclaimed the Senator, roused from his thoughts by his youngest daughter's words and thrusting himself forward.

Mrs. Spangler laid her hand on his arm.

"Oh, Senator, I have just told the dear girls that you had asked me to marry you—that we were soon to be married," she said, archly, looking him straight in the eye. She clasped her hands and murmured: "I am so happy!"

The hero of Crawfordsville tried to speak, but he could not. He stared at his hostess, who smiled the smile of the budding debutante. His own open-mouthed astonishment was reflected in the faces of Carolina and Hope Georgia as they observed their father's expression. He forgot he was in Washington. He did not know he was a Senator. The fact that he had ever even thought of making a speech was furthest from his mind.

What did it all mean? Had Mrs. Spangler gone suddenly insane? His daughters—what did they think? These thoughts surged through his flustered brain. Then it flashed over him—she was joking in some new fashionable way. He turned toward the fair widow to laugh, but her face was losing its smile. A pained expression, a suggestion of intense suffering, appeared in her face.

"Why do you so hesitate, Senator Langdon?" she finally asked in low voice, just loud enough for the two girls to overhear.

The junior Senator from Mississippi looked at his hostess. She had entertained him and had done much for his daughters in Washington. She was alone in the world—a widow. He felt that he could not shame her before Carolina and Hope Georgia. His Southern chivalry would not permit that. Then, too, she was a most charming person, and the thought, "Why not—why not take her at her word?" crept into his mind.

"Yes, father, why do you hesitate?" asked Carolina.

Senator Langdon mustered his voice into service at last.

"I've been thinking," he said, slowly, "that—"

"That your daughters did not know," interrupted Mrs. Spangler, "of our—"

"The telephone—upstairs—is ringing, madam," said a maid who had entered to Mrs. Spangler.

The adventuress could not leave the Senator and his daughters alone, though she knew it must be Peabody calling her. At any moment he might remember his speech and leave. Already late, he would still be later, though, because he would have no carriage—hers would purposely be delayed.

"Tell the person speaking that you are empowered to bring me any message—that I cannot leave the dining-hall," she said to the maid.

To gain time and to hold the Senator's attention, Mrs. Spangler asked, slowly:

"Well, Senator, what was it that you were going to say when I interrupted you a few moments ago?"

Langdon had been racking his brain for some inspiration that would enable him to save the feelings of his hostess, and yet indicate his position clearly. He would not commit himself in any way. He would jump up and pronounce her an impostor first.

After a moment of silence his clouded face cleared.

"Mrs. Spangler," he began, "your announcement to-day I have considered to be—"

"Premature," she suggested.

The maid returned.

"Mr. Wall says Senator Langdon is wanted at once at the Capitol."

"Great heavens!" exclaimed Langdon, springing to his feet and glancing at the clock. "I'm late! I'm late! I hope to God I'm not too late!"

"Mr. Wall says a carriage is coming for Senator Langdon," concluded the maid.

"We must talk this matter over some other time, Mrs. Spangler," the Mississippian cried, as he sent a servant for his hat and coat. "I hope that carriage hurries, else I'll try it on the run for the Capitol!"

"It's a half hour away on foot," said Mrs. Spangler. "Better wait. You'll save time."

But to herself she muttered, as though mystified:

"I wonder why Peabody changed his mind so suddenly? Why should he now want the old fool at the Capitol?"

The rumble of wheels was heard outside.

"Hurry, father!" cried Hope Georgia.

The Senator hurried down the stone steps of Mrs. Spangler's residence as rapidly as his weight and the excitement under which he labored would permit. Opening the coach door, he plunged inside—to come face to face with Bud Haines, who had huddled down in a corner to avoid observance from the Spangler windows. The driver started his horses off on a run.

Struggling to regain his breath, the Senator cried:

"Well, what are—"

"Never mind now. But first gather in all I say, Senator, as we've no time to lose. When I couldn't locate you and I saw you probably wouldn't be at the Senate chamber in time to make your speech on the naval base bill, I persuaded Senator Milbank of Arkansas to rise and make a speech on the currency question, which subject was in order. He was under obligation to me for some important information I once obtained for him, and he consented to keep the floor until you arrived, though he knew he would earn the vengeance of Peabody. That was over an hour and a half ago. He must be reading quotations from 'Pilgrim's Progress' to the Senate by now to keep the floor."

Bud paused to look at his watch.

The Senator stretched his head out of the window and cried: "Drive faster!"

"Got your speech all right?" called Bud above the din of the rattling wheels.

"Yes, here," was the response, the Senator tapping his inner breast pocket.

"Thought maybe she—" cried Bud, jerking his head back in the direction from which they had come.

The Mississippian shook his head negatively, and set his jaws determinedly.

The coach swung up to the Capitol entrance.

"Tell me," asked Langdon, as both jumped out, "how did you find out that—"

"I 'phoned the house—gave a name Peabody uses—"

"Great heavens! but how did you know where to 'phone?"

They were at the door of the Senate chamber.

"Norton gave me the tip—for your sake and Carolina's—for old times' sake, he said," was Bud's reply.



CHAPTER XXVIII

ON THE FLOOR OF THE SENATE

Too much occupied in concentrating his thoughts on his speech, Langdon failed to notice the consternation on the faces of Peabody and Stevens as he walked to his seat in the Senate. They had failed to succeed in getting Milbank to conclude, and consequently could not push the naval base report through. But they noted the passing of over an hour after their opponent's appointed time and had felt certain that he would not appear at all.

"The boss of the Senate" leaned across to Stevens and whispered, hurriedly:

"We must tear him to pieces now—discredit him publicly. It's his own fault. Our agents can sell the land to Standard Steel. Our connection with the scheme will be impossible to discover—after we have made the public believe Langdon is a crook."

"But how about our supposed combination to protect the Government that Langdon will tell about?" asked Stevens. "We can't deny that, of course."

"No," answered Peabody. "We can't deny it, but we will not affirm it. We will tell interviewers that we prefer not to talk about it."

"It's our only chance," replied Stevens, cautiously.

"Yes; and we owe it all to Jake Steinert," went on Peabody. "That fellow Telfer will do anything to please Jake. Jake has convinced Telfer that Langdon was responsible for the defeat of Gulf City, and the Mayor is wild for revenge."

"The boss of the Senate" rose and walked to the rear of the Senate chamber to issue orders to two of his colleagues.

"Report of the committee on naval affairs." droned the clerk, mechanically. "House Bill No. 1,109 is amended to read as follows—" And his voice sank to an unintelligible mumble, for every Senator present he well knew was aware that the amendment named Altacoola as the naval base site.

Senator Langdon rose in his seat.

"Mr. President," he called.

"Chair recognizes the gentleman from Mississippi," said the presiding officer, as he leaned back to speak to Senator Winans of Kansas, who had approached to the side of the rostrum.

The Langdon speech on "The New South and the South of the Future" proved more than a document suited only to a reverent burial in the Congressional Record. Although wearied at the start owing to the exciting happenings of the day, the Mississippian's enthusiasm for his cause gave him strength and stimulation as he progressed. His voice rose majestically as he came to the particular points he wished to accentuate, and even those in the uppermost rows in the galleries could hear every word.

At the close of his formal speech he began on his statement of the action of the naval affairs committee in buying control of the Altacoola land to foil attempts to rob the Government. As he had predicted, the Senate did "sit up." The Senate did agree that a new kind of politics had arrived.

During this latter part of the speech many curious glances were directed at Peabody and Stevens, who sat in the same tier of seats, in the middle of the chamber, only an aisle separating them. Through this choice of seats they could confer without leaving their places. Various senatorial associates of these two men in other deals found it difficult to believe their ears—but was not old Langdon at this moment narrating the amazing transaction on the floor of the Senate? Would the statue on the pedestal step down? Would the sphinx of the desert speak the story of the lost centuries? Would honor take the place of expediency in the affairs of state? What might not happen, thought the Senate machine, now that Peabody and Stevens had taken to their bosoms what they termed the purple pup of political purity?

Neither did the full portent of the situation escape the attention of the reporters' gallery. Dick Cullen observed to Hansel of the Record:

"Virtue's getting so thick around here it's a menace to navigation."

"Blocking the traffic, eh?" queried Hansel; and both laughed.

"Hello! What's this?" exclaimed Cullen a few minutes later. "Horton has been recognized, when the program was to adjourn when the naval base bill was over with."

Langdon's speech had proved the hit, the sensation of the session. After he concluded, amid resounding applause, in which Senators joined, as well as occupants of the galleries, Senator Horton of Montana rose and caught the presiding officer's eye.

"I ask unanimous consent to offer a resolution."

Hearing no objection, he continued, in a manner that instantly attracted unusual attention:

"It is my unpleasant duty"—Peabody and Stevens exchanged glances—"to place a matter before this body that to me, as a member of this honorable body, is not only distasteful, but deeply to be regretted.

"There has arisen ground to suspect a member of this body with having endeavored to make money at the Government's expense out of land which he is alleged to have desired his own committee to choose as the naval base.

"I therefore offer this resolution providing for the appointment of an investigating committee to look into these charges."

Langdon was intensely excited over this new development. "Some one has learned something about Peabody or Stevens," he muttered. He feared that this new complication might in some way affect the fate of the naval base—that the South, and Mississippi, might lose it. He rose slowly in his seat, while the Senate hummed with the murmur of suppressed voices.

"I ask for more definite information," he began, when recognized and after the President of the Senate had pounded with the gavel to restore quiet, "so that this house can consider this important matter more intelligently."

Senator Horton rose. He said:

"I will take the liberty of adding that the Senator accused is none other than the junior Senator from Mississippi."

Langdon's eyes blazed. He strode swiftly into the aisle.

"Mr. President," he cried, passionately, "I know this is not the time or place for a discussion like this, but ask that senatorial courtesy permit me to ask"—then he concluded strongly before he could be stopped—"what is the evidence in support of this preposterous charge?"

"This is all out of order," said the presiding officer, after a pause, "but in view of the circumstances I will entertain a motion to suspend the rules."

This motion passing, Horton replied to Langdon:

"Your name is signed to a contract with J.D. Telfer, Mayor of Gulf City, Miss., calling for 3,000 shares in the Gulf City Land Company, and—"

"A lie! a lie!" screamed Langdon.

"That official," went on Horton, coolly, "is now in Washington. He has the contract and will swear to conversations with you and your secretary. His testimony will be corroborated by no less a personage than Congressman Norton, of your own district, who says you asked him to conduct part of the negotiations.

"And I might add," cried Horton, "that it is known to more than one member of this honorable body that you had drawn up a minority report in favor of Gulf City because of your anger at the defeat of your plan to lake the naval base away from Altacoola."

Langdon sank into his chair, bewildered, even stunned. There was a conspiracy against him, but how could he prove it? The ground seemed crumbling from under him—not even a straw to grasp. Then the old fighting blood that carried him along in Beauregard's van tugged at the valves of his heart, revived his spirit, ran through his veins. He leaped to his feet.

A sound as of a scuffle—a body falling heavily—drew all eyes from Langdon to the rear of the main aisle. An assistant sergeant-at-arms was lying face downward on the carpet. Another was vainly trying to hold Bud Haines, who, tearing himself free, rushed down to his chief, waving a sheet of paper in the Senator's eyes.

"Read that!" gasped the secretary, breathlessly, and he hurried away up a side passageway and out to reach the stairs leading to the press gallery.

Langdon spread the paper before him with difficulty with his trembling hands. Slowly his whirling brain gave him the ability to read. Slowly what appeared to him as a jumbled nothing resolved into orderly lines and words. He read and again stood before the Senate, which had regained its usual composure after the fallen sergeant-at-arms had regained his feet and rubbed his bruises.

"I do not think there will be any investigation," he said, with decided effort, struggling to down the emotion that choked him. "I ask this house to listen to the following letter:

"DEAR SENATOR LANGDON: When you receive this letter I shall be well on my way to take a steamer for Cuba. I write to ask you not to think too harshly of me, for I will always cherish thoughts of the friendship you have shown me.

"Peabody and Stevens have finally proved too much for me. When they got old Telfer to swear to a forged contract and wanted me to forge your name in the land records at Gulf City, I threw up my hands. Their game will always go on, I suppose, but you gave them a shock when you broke up their Altacoola graft scheme. And I'm glad you did They cast me aside to-day, probably thinking they could get me again if they needed me.

"I am going on the sugar plantation of a friend, where I can make a new start and forget that I ever went to Washington."

Langdon paused deliberately. The Senate was hushed. The galleries were stifled. Not even the rustle of a sheet of paper was heard in the reporters' gallery. The Mississippian gazed around the Senate chamber. He saw Stevens and Peabody craning their necks across the aisle and talking excitedly to each other.

Then he stepped forward and spoke, waving the paper in the air.

"This letter is signed 'Charles Norton.'"

The old Southerner gazed triumphantly at the men who had sought to destroy him. It was with difficulty that the presiding officer could hammer down the burst of handclapping that arose from the galleries.

Senator Horton, however, was not satisfied with Langdon's sudden ascendency.

"How do we know that that letter is not a forgery, a trick?" he exclaimed.

"Go get Congressman Norton—if you can—and get his denial," responded Langdon.

The junior Senator from Mississippi hurriedly pushed his way out of the Senate chamber. His day's work was done.

Down on a broad plantation along the Pearl River an old planter, who has borne his years well, as life goes nowadays, passes his days contentedly. He delights in the rompings of his grandchildren as they rouse the echoes of the mansion and prides himself on the achievements of their father, Randolph, who has improved the plantation to a point never reached before.

Sometimes he receives a letter from his daughter. Hope Georgia, now Mrs. Haines, telling him of her happy life, or perhaps it is a letter from Carolina, describing the good times she is having in London with the friends she is visiting.

And the old planter goes out on the broad veranda in the warm Southern twilight, and he thinks of the days that were. He remembers how the Third Mississippi won the day at Crawfordsville. He thinks of the days when he fought the good fight in Washington. His thoughts turn to the memory of her who went before these many years and whom he is soon to see again, and peace descends on the soul of the gentleman from Mississippi as the world drops to slumber around him.

THE END.