“I ask for more definite information,” he began, when recognized and after the President of the Senate had pounded with the gavel to restore quiet, “so that this house can consider this important matter more intelligently.”

Senator Horton rose.  He said: 

“I will take the liberty of adding that the Senator accused is none other than the junior Senator from Mississippi.”

Langdon’s eyes blazed.  He strode swiftly into the aisle.

“Mr. President,” he cried, passionately, “I know this is not the time or place for a discussion like this, but ask that senatorial courtesy permit me to ask”—­then he concluded strongly before he could be stopped—­“what is the evidence in support of this preposterous charge?”

“This is all out of order,” said the presiding officer, after a pause, “but in view of the circumstances I will entertain a motion to suspend the rules.”

This motion passing, Horton replied to Langdon: 

“Your name is signed to a contract with J.D.  Telfer, Mayor of Gulf City, Miss., calling for 3,000 shares in the Gulf City Land Company, and—­”

“A lie! a lie!” screamed Langdon.

“That official,” went on Horton, coolly, “is now in Washington.  He has the contract and will swear to conversations with you and your secretary.  His testimony will be corroborated by no less a personage than Congressman Norton, of your own district, who says you asked him to conduct part of the negotiations.

“And I might add,” cried Horton, “that it is known to more than one member of this honorable body that you had drawn up a minority report in favor of Gulf City because of your anger at the defeat of your plan to lake the naval base away from Altacoola.”

Langdon sank into his chair, bewildered, even stunned.  There was a conspiracy against him, but how could he prove it?  The ground seemed crumbling from under him—­not even a straw to grasp.  Then the old fighting blood that carried him along in Beauregard’s van tugged at the valves of his heart, revived his spirit, ran through his veins.  He leaped to his feet.

A sound as of a scuffle—­a body falling heavily—­drew all eyes from Langdon to the rear of the main aisle.  An assistant sergeant-at-arms was lying face downward on the carpet.  Another was vainly trying to hold Bud Haines, who, tearing himself free, rushed down to his chief, waving a sheet of paper in the Senator’s eyes.

“Read that!” gasped the secretary, breathlessly, and he hurried away up a side passageway and out to reach the stairs leading to the press gallery.

Langdon spread the paper before him with difficulty with his trembling hands.  Slowly his whirling brain gave him the ability to read.  Slowly what appeared to him as a jumbled nothing resolved into orderly lines and words.  He read and again stood before the Senate, which had regained its usual composure after the fallen sergeant-at-arms had regained his feet and rubbed his bruises.