Dick plodded along the streets too absorbed in thought to notice the snow and ice. Should he, or should he not? Well, he would try anyway, so quickening his steps he hastened over to the Congressional Library and entered one of the pay-station telephone booths in the building.
“What number, please?” asked Central.
“Main 6.” A few minutes’ wait.
“Drop in your nickel, there’s your party.”
“Hello, White House, I want to speak to Secretary Burton—Hello, Burton, that you? This is Dick Tillinghast talking.”
“Well, Dick, how are you?”
“Oh, so-so. Say, Burton, do you think the President would see me alone for a few minutes?” Dick heard Burton whistle. “I know he is fearfully busy with the arrival of the Grand Duke Sergius, but I swear it’s important—a matter of life and death.”
Burton detected the earnest note in Dick’s voice, and was convinced.
“Hold the wire, old man.”
Dick waited impatiently. So much depended on the answer.