“He’s just the man we want, Senator.  He’s one of those old fellows you just have to believe when he talks.  He’ll do what I suggest, and he can make the public believe what we think.”

“Then you guarantee him?” snapped the boss.

“Unreservedly, Senator.”

“All right,” said Peabody.  “He goes on the naval committee.  That ought to be enough honor for a man who a year ago was growing cotton on an old plantation miles away from civilization.”

“We have control now of all the land about Altacoola that can be used,” said Stevens.  “I have had Norton, the Congressman from Langdon’s district, working on it.  There isn’t a foot of land there which we do not now control under options, and,” he added, with a chuckle, “the options were dirt cheap.”

Peabody grunted approvingly.

“There won’t be any New York fortune in it, but it ought to be a pretty tidy bit,” he said.  “Now, if we could only get Langdon interested, directly or indirectly, in a financial way, that would clinch everything.”

The senior Senator from Mississippi shook his head.

“It’s too risky.  He’s old-fashioned, you know—­has about as much idea about practical politics as—­well, as we have of the Golden Rule.  Fact is, he rather lives by that antiquated standard.  That’s where we get him.  He owes everything to me, you see, so naturally he’ll do anything I want him to.  By the way, there’s Norton now.  Perhaps he can tell us something.”

“Call him over,” said Peabody.

Norton had been strolling about the lobby, hoping to be noticed.  The flame had lured the moth, and it liked the manner of the singeing.  The Congressman hurried precipitately across at Stevens’ summons.

“I’ve been wanting to speak to you, gentlemen,” said Norton, full of the good trick he had turned, “but I didn’t like to interrupt you.  I think I’ve done a big stroke for Altacoola to-day.”

Even Peabody pricked up his ears.

“Yes?” said both Senators together.

With a keen sense of the dramatic, the Congressman let his next words drawl out with full effect.

“I’ve got Senator Langdon interested—­financially interested,” he said.

His two hearers exchanged a significant glance.

“How?” asked Peabody, sharply.

Norton smiled shrewdly.

“Well, I just let his son invest $50,000 of the Senator’s money in Altacoola land.  That ought to help some.”

Stevens stared in amazement at his Congressman, his eyes threatening to bulge out of his head.

“What!” he gasped.  “You got Langdon’s money in Altacoola, through his son?”

“I sure have, Senator,” chuckled Norton.  “He’s in to the extent of fifty thousand, and I’ve promised that the fifty shall make a hundred by spring.”

“It’ll make three hundred thousand at least,” snapped Peabody.  “Norton, you’ve done a good day’s work.  By the way, a New York client of mine has a little business that I cannot attend to handily.  Doesn’t involve much work, and a young, hustling lawyer like you ought to take charge of it easily.  The fee, I should say, would be about $10,000.  Have you the time to undertake it?”