"That's just like a woman!" he grumbled, as he returned to the Morris chair. "Fly to open a door!"
"But I didn't open it!"
"No, but you meant to," severely.
"I was frightened," pleaded Eva.
"No, you were not," contradicted Moore. "You wanted to get that door open. It wasn't necessary that it be opened at once. You should have given me time to get out of here into those rooms that Burroughs reserved for just such emergencies. It would never do for me to be found here. But, no! That door must be opened! I've noticed that trait in other women. They don't reason; they don't think. But they must have a door opened the moment there is a knock."
"It might have been Winnie. After you told me that you gave our signal—that you wanted to go over this list before dinner—I've been sick with fear that she heard your scratch. But evidently she didn't, for she asked no questions when I returned. I don't want her to suspect anything. I never wanted you to come through those connecting doors, anyway. Why not come openly, as everyone else does?"
"I tell you it would never do!" angrily. "Miss Blair had better suspect—than know," grimly. "What people don't see they can't prove."
"It might have been Arthur," still seeking justification.
"Well, it wasn't," replied the political manager, coolly. "Besides, he has a latch-key, and we should have heard its click. Now, let's get to work. I've got a dinner engagement with Charlie Blair to-night at eight-thirty. Here's the list. Let's check up."
The Honorable was very methodical, very systematic. He called off senators and representatives in alphabetical order, and checked or drew a line through their names as Eva told of her efforts in Burroughs' behalf.