Richard glanced at her quickly.
"That is a remark which evidently has a foundation," he said. "I wish you would tell me what prompted it."
"I am not sure it was very discreet," was the reply. "My personal knowledge of Senator Blundel prompted it."
"You know him very well," said Richard, with some eagerness.
"I should not venture to say I knew any one very well," she said, in the captivating voice which gave to all her words such value and suggestiveness. "I know him as I know many other men like him. I was born a politician, and existence without my politics would be an arid desert to me. I have talked to him and read his speeches, and followed him in his career for some time. I have even asked questions about him, and, consequently, I know something of his methods. I think—you see, I only say I think—I know what he will do."
"In Heaven's name, what is it?" demanded Richard.
She unfurled her fan and smiled over it with the delightful gleam of little white teeth.
"He will take his time," she answered. "He is slow, and prides himself on being sure. Your bill will not be acted upon; it will be set aside to lie over until the next session of Congress."
Richard felt as if he changed color, but he bore himself with outward discretion.
"You have some ulterior motive," he said. "Having invited me to remain to luncheon, you seek to render me incapable of doing myself justice. You saw in my eye the wolfish hunger which is the result of interviews with the savage senator and the pitiless member of Congress. Now I see the value of your theory. If it were in practice, I could win Blundel over with gold. What is your opinion of his conscience as it stands?"