"Oh, that's all right. Maybe he can suggest something," said Peabody, going to the telephone. "We've too much at stake to make a mistake, and Jake may see a point that we've overlooked. Luckily I saw him downstairs in the grill-room as we came through to the elevator."
"Steinert is all right himself," continued Stevens, "but his methods—"
"Can't be too particular now about his methods—or ours, Stevens, when a bull like Langdon breaks loose in the political china shop. Fortune and reputation are both fragile."
A ring of a bell announced the arrival of Jake Steinert, whose reputation as a lobbyist of advanced ability had spread wide in the twenty years he had spent in Washington. Of medium height, sallow complexion, dark hair and dark eyes, his broad shoulders filled the doorway as he entered. An illy kept mustache almost hid a thin-lipped, forceful mouth, almost as forceful as some of the language he used. His eyes darted first to Peabody and then to Stevens, waiting for either of them to open the conversation.
The highest class lobbyists, those who "swing" the "biggest deals," concern themselves only with men who can "handle" or who control lawmakers. They get regular reports and outline the campaign. Like crafty spiders they hide in the center of a great web, a web of bribery, threat, cajolery and intrigue, intent on every victim that is lured into the glistening meshes.
Only the small fry mingle freely with the legislators in the open, in the hotels and cafés and in the Capitol corridors.
Jake Steinert did not belong in either of these classes; he ranked somewhere between the biggest and the smallest. He coupled colossal boldness with the most expert knowledge of all the intricate workings of the congressional mechanism. Given money to spend among members to secure the defeat of a bill, he would frequently put most of the money in his own pocket and for a comparatively small sum defeat it by influencing the employees through whose hands it must pass.
"Sit down, Jake. Something to drink?" asked Peabody, reaching for a decanter.
"No," grunted the lobbyist; "don't drink durin' business hours; only durin' the day."
"Well, Jake," said the Pennsylvanian, "you probably know something of what's going on in the naval affairs committee."