. That was
unusual, puzzling to Langdon. Moreover, it was poor business, yet
there were able business men in the Senate. Not one of them would,
for instance, think of buying a site for a factory until he had
investigated many possible locations and then selected the most
favorable one. Why was it, he pondered, that the business of the great
United States of America was not conducted on business lines?

He must study the whole question intelligently; that was imperative.
He must have advice, help. To whom was he to go for it? Stevens? Yes,
his old friend, who knew all "the ropes." Yet even Stevens seemed
different in Washington than Stevens in Mississippi. Here he played
"second fiddle." He was even obsequious, Langdon had observed, to
Peabody. In Mississippi he was a leader, and a strong one, too. But
Senator Langdon had not yet learned of the many founts from which
political strength and political leadership may be gained.

What he finally decided on was the engaging of a secretary, but he
must be one with knowledge of political operations, one who combined
wisdom with honesty. Such an aid could prevent Langdon from making the
many mistakes that invariably mark the new man in politics, and he
could point out the most effective modes of procedure under given
circumstances. It might prove difficult to find a man of the necessary
qualifications who was not already employed, but in the meantime
Langdon would watch the playing of the game himself and make his own
deductions as best he could.

The Senator started toward the hotel desk to ask regarding the
whereabouts of his son Randolph, when his attention was caught by the
sight of three powerful negro porters endeavoring to thrust outdoors
a threadbare old man. The victim's flowing white hair, white mustache
and military bearing received short shrift.

"Come along, Colonel! Yo' can't sit heah all day. Them chairs is for
the guests in the hotel," the head porter was urging as he jerked the
old man toward the door.

The Mississippian's fighting blood was instantly aroused at such
treatment of a respectable old white man by negroes. His lips tightly
compressed as he hurried to the rescue. He cried sharply:

"Take your hands off that gentleman! What do you mean by touching a
friend of mine?"

The negroes stepped back amazed.

"'Scuse me, Senator, is this gent'man a friend of yours?" the head
porter gasped apologetically.

Langdon looked at him.

"You heard what I