“All right, I’ll be there. Come, hurry up, Chester, I’m behind time.” So saying he hustled Long into his overcoat and out of the house.
Twenty minutes later Dick ran lightly up the Trevor steps in much tribulation of spirit. He heartily wished the night was over.
“Can I see the Attorney General, Wilkins?” he asked, as that functionary opened the door.
“No, sir. He is not at home, sir.”
“Sorry, Wilkins, but I must insist on being admitted. I come from the Secretary of State. Take this note and my card up to the Attorney General and ask if he can see me.”
On entering the drawing-room Dick was surprised to see Alfred Clark lounging comfortably back on the big divan near the fireplace. He glanced up with annoyance at the sound of footsteps; but, recognizing Dick, he came forward with outstretched hand.
“Good evening, Tillinghast,” he said cordially. “I didn’t hear the front bell ring; I must have been dozing.”
“Indeed,” answered Dick. What was it about the fellow he didn’t like? Ah, it came to him as Clark moved forward a chair—it was the Secretary’s air of proprietorship—as if he were host and Dick a tolerated intruder!
“Can I do anything for you to-night, Tillinghast?”
“No, thanks. I called to see the Attorney General.”