ing telephoned ahead and made an appointment with Senator
Rickrose--whom, luckily, they found at the Capital--to meet them at the
Metropolitan Club for luncheon. At Fourteenth Street, they changed to a
Connecticut Avenue car, and, dismounting at Seventeenth and dodging a
couple of automobiles, entered the Pompeian brick and granite building,
the home of the Club which has the most representative membership in
the country.

Macloud was on the non-resident list, and the door-man, with the memory
for faces which comes from long practice, greeted him, instantly, by
name, though he had not seen him for months.

"Yes, Mr. Macloud, Senator Rickrose just came in," he said.

They met the Senator in the Red Room. He was very tall, with a tendency
to corpulency, which, however, was lost in his great height; very
dignified, and, for one of his service, very young--of immense
influence in the councils of his party, and the absolute dictator in
his own State. Inheriting a superb machine from a "matchless
leader,"--who died in the harness--he had developed it into a well
nigh perfect organization for political control. All power was in his
hands, from the lowest to the highest, he ruled with a sway as absolute
as a despot. His word was the ultimate law--from it an appeal did not
lie.

"How are you, old fellow?" he said to Macloud, dropping a hand on his
shoulder. "I haven't seen you for a long time--and, Mr. Croyden, I
think I have met you in Northumberland. I'm glad, indeed, to see you
both." He touched a bell. "Take the orders!" he said, to the boy.

"Senator!" said Macloud, a little later, when they had finished
luncheon. "I want to ask a slight favor--not political however--so it
won't have to be endorsed by the organization."

The Senator laughed. "In that event, it is granted before you ask. What
is it I can do?"

"Have the Secretary of the Navy issue us a permit to camp on Greenberry
Point."

"Where the devil is Greenberry Point?" said Rickrose.

"Across the Severn River from Annapolis."

Rickrose turned in his chair and glanced over the dining-room. Then he
raised his hand to the head waiter.

"Has the Secretary of the Navy had luncheon?" he asked.

"Yes, sir--before you came in."

The Senator nodded.

"We would better go over to the Department, at once, or we shall miss
him," he said. "Chevy Chase is the drawing card, in the afternoon."

The reception hour was long passed, but the Secretary was in and would