ce, then, this senator?" he asked. "Is it that in your
country ships of war are at the service of a senator?"

Aiken, the wireless operator, grinned derisively.

"At the service of THIS senator, they are!" he answered. "They call him
the 'king-maker,' the man behind the throne."

"But in your country," protested the Frenchman, "there is no throne. I
thought your president was elected by the people?"

"That's what the people think," answered Aiken. "In God's country,"
he explained, "the trusts want a rich man in the Senate, with the same
interests as their own, to represent them. They chose Hanley. He picked
out of the candidates for the presidency the man he thought would help
the interests. He nominated him, and the people voted for him. Hanley is
what we call a 'boss.'"

The Frenchman looked inquiringly at Marshall.

"The position of the boss is the more dangerous," said Marshall gravely,
"because it is unofficial, because there are no laws to curtail his
powers. Men like Senator Hanley are a menace to good government. They
see in public office only a reward for party workers."

"That's right," assented Aiken. "Your forty years' service, Mr. Consul,
wouldn't count with Hanley. If he wanted your job, he'd throw you out as
quick as he would a drunken cook."

Mr. Marshall flushed painfully, and the French consul hastened to
interrupt.

"Then, let us pray," he exclaimed, with fervor, "that the hurricane has
sunk the SERAPIS, and all on board."

Two hours later, the SERAPIS, showing she had met the hurricane and had
come out second best, steamed into the harbor.

Her owner was young Herbert Livingstone, of Washington. He once had
been in the diplomatic service, and, as minister to The Hague, wished to
return to it. In order to bring this about he had subscribed liberally
to the party campaign fund.

With him, among other distinguished persons, was the all-powerful
Hanley. The kidnapping of Hanley for the cruise, in itself, demonstrated
the ability of Livingstone as a diplomat. It was the opinion of
many that it would surely lead to his appointment as a minister
plenipotentiary. Livingstone was of the same opinion. He had not lived
long in the nation's capital without observing the value of propinquity.
How many men he knew were now paymasters, and secretaries of legation,
solely because those high in the government met them daily at the
Metropolitan Club, and preferred them in almost any other place. And if,