"But, but—" stammered the boy, "I was told that Mr. Henry was in room 40."
Once again the man's voice roared through the length of the corridor:
"Room 40! You little blackguard, this is not room 40. This is room 4. Forty is at the other end of the corridor."
"I beg your pardon," stuttered the boy. "I didn't mean—"
"I don't care what you mean, or what you didn't mean," grumbled the man, "but I'd like to know what right you have to wake up people who are sound asleep. I'll complain to the clerk and find out what kind of a house this is, anyhow!"
Before he had finished the sentence, Barry was halfway down the corridor and finally reached the room he was looking for. He knocked on this door a little less defiantly than he had on the first one. In a little while it was opened, and the real Congressman stood there wanting to know why he had been aroused. Barry hastily explained his mission. Mr. Henry took it quite good-naturedly and said:
"All right, my boy, I will dress and get down to the Capitol in a few minutes."
From the Cosmopolis Barry went to another hotel a few blocks below, where he knew that Congressman Yale lived. To his delight he found this gentleman in the barber's chair indulging in the luxury of a shave. He knew Mr. Yale, and when that gentleman saw him he wanted to know his business. He told him in a few words and said that he would like to know if he was willing to hurry to the House.
"Willing," echoed the other; "I'm not very, but I'll go."
He did not wait for the barber to finish his shave, but told him that he need not go any further, and jumping out of the chair, he took a towel and wiped the lather from his face. Putting on his hat and coat, he hurried out of the hotel on to the avenue and thence towards the Capitol.