The secretary, after a time, tapped and entered.
"Mayor Morrison is not in the ballroom, sir. And I could not find him."
"You should have inquired of Miss Corson."
"I could not find Miss Corson."
The Senator started for the door. He turned and went back to Daunt. "It's all right! I gave her a bit of a commission. It's in regard to Morrison. She seems to be attending to it faithfully. Be easy! I'll bring him."
The father went straight to the library. He knew the resources of his own mansion in the matter of nooks for a tete-a-tete interview; now he was particularly assisted by remembrance of Stewart's habits in the old days. He found his daughter and the mayor of Marion cozily ensconced among the cushions of a deep window-seat.
Stewart was listening intently to the girl, his chin on his knuckles, his elbow propped on his knee. His forehead was puckered; he was gazing at her with intent seriousness.
"Senator Corson," warned the girl, "we are in executive session."
"I see! I understand! But I need Stewart urgently for a few moments."
"I surrendered him willingly a little while ago. But this conference must not be interrupted, sir!"