“I came out this way on business, Mr. Madison, so I dropped in only for a short call,” Nick observed. “I want to discuss the approaching election with you, or one feature of it.”
“Ah! Is that so?”
“I hardly expected, nevertheless, to find you at this hour,” Nick added.
“I have not been in town to-day,” Madison replied deliberately.
“No?”
“I have not been feeling well. My wife and children are visiting in Boston for a few days, and I have given the servants a like holiday. Come into the library. Sit down and help yourself. There are matches in the tray.”
Madison placed a box of cigars on the desk while speaking, then resumed the swivel chair, from which he had arisen to admit his visitor.
Nick had removed his hat and overcoat and left them in the side hall. He took a chair directly opposite the burly politician. He had, apparently, no aggressive intentions.
The aroma of pinks and heliotrope was wafted from an alcove near by, from which a door led into the conservatory. The door was open a few inches, admitting the scent of the flowers.
“You are not seriously ill, I hope,” Nick remarked, while he accepted a cigar and lit it.