"I have within my control," Enoch went on, steadily, "the means to force you to cease to put out lies concerning the Department of the Interior and me. I seriously consider not waiting for your next move, but of making use of this in retaliation for what you have done to me. As to that, I have reached no conclusion. This is all I have to say."
Enoch turned on his heel and closely followed by Charley left the office. As they entered the taxicab, Abbott said, "Gee, that did me more good than getting my salary doubled! I thought you were going to use this morning's item as a text!"
"You'd better have Cheney prepare a reply to that, for me to sign," said Enoch and he lapsed into silence. They went directly to their train and to bed and the next morning office routine began promptly at nine as usual.
February slipped into March. One cold, rainy morning Abbott, with a broad smile on his face, came in to take dictation.
"What's happened, Abbott?" asked Enoch. "Some one left you some money?"
"Better than that!" exclaimed Charley. "I dined at the Indian
Commissioner's last night and whom do you think I took out? Miss
Allen!"
A slow red suffused Enoch's forehead and died out. "When did she return to Washington?" he asked, quietly.
"A day or so ago. She is studying at the Smithsonian. She says she'll be here two months."
"She is well, I hope," said Enoch.
"She looks simply glorious!"