"Luncheon?" Miller reflected. "I rather think not."
"Thank you, sir." The waiter's manner was apologetic. "I asked, sir, because, sir, today the Cabinet officers lunch here, and…."
"They require your undivided attention?" mildly. "I quite understand—Ludwig." Their eyes met, then Miller turned on his heel. "Auf wiedersehen" he exclaimed under his breath, and the waiter's stolid expression changed to one of relief.
Miller, who had checked his overcoat and hat before entering the dining-room, wasted no time but entered a public telephone booth. When he emerged he was whistling cheerily, and the doorkeeper watched him hail a street car with curious eyes.
"Always running in and out," he muttered. "It beats me when he sleeps."
First stopping at a florist's and then a jeweler's establishment, Miller bent his footsteps toward the Portland, and to his satisfaction found Senator Foster enjoying a belated breakfast in his apartment.
"I'm glad to discover a man keeping later hours than I," he remarked, accepting the chair Foster pulled forward. "You must have an easy conscience to sleep so late in the morning."
"Or enjoyed the devil of a night—er—mare." The Senator's face was flushed and his strong voice husky. "You mistake; this is luncheon, not breakfast. Keep me company? No?" Foster pecked viciously at his lamb chop. "I've no appetite at all. Caught a beastly cold at the Sisters in Unity meeting last night. Cough all the time—beastly climate, Washington."
"Why stay here?"
"Oh, Congress…."