* * *

Otto came into the room on silent feet.

“A gentleman to see you, sir,” he said.

The senator stiffened upright in his chair.

“What do you mean by sneaking up on me?” he shouted. “Always pussyfooting. Trying to startle me. After this you cough or fall over a chair or something so I’ll know that you’re around.”

“Sorry, sir,” said Otto. “There’s a gentleman here. And there are those letters on the desk to read.”

“I’ll read the letters later,” said the senator.

“Be sure you don’t forget,” Otto told him, stiffly.

“I never forget,” said the senator. “You’d think I was getting senile, the way you keep reminding me.”

“There’s a gentleman to see you,” Otto said patiently. “A Mr. Lee.”

“Anson Lee, perhaps.”

Otto sniffed. “I believe that was his name. A newspaper person, sir.”

“Show him in,” said the senator.

He sat stolidly in his chair and thought: Lee’s found out about it. Somehow he’s ferreted out the fact the party’s thrown me over. And he’s here to crucify me.

He may suspect, but he cannot know. He may have heard a minor, but he can’t be sure. The party would keep mum, must necessarily keep mum, since it can’t openly admit its traffic in life continuation. So Lee, having heard a rumor, had come to blast it out of me, to catch me by surprise and trip me up with words.

I must not let him do it, for once the thing is known, the wolves will come in packs knee deep.

Lee was walking into the room and the senator rose and shook his hand.

“Sorry to disturb you, senator,” Lee told him, “but I thought maybe you could help me.”