Having the advantage of time, he was first at the appointed meeting-place.  He had drawn a chair to the balustrade, and was glooming thoughtfully down at the lobby gathering, upon which even the lateness of the hour appeared to have no dispersing effect, when a mellow voice behind him said:  “Well, son, taking a quiet little squint at the menagerie?”

Blount got up and gave the speaker his chair, dragging up another for himself.  The senator sat down and stretched his great frame like a man wearied.  “Ah, Lord!” he said.  “The old man isn’t as young as he used to be, Evan, boy.  There was a time once when eleven o’clock didn’t seem any later to me than it does now to you; but it’s gone by, son, and I don’t reckon it’ll ever come back again.”

Blount drew his chair nearer.  “I have a hard thing to say to you to-night, dad,” he began, “and you mustn’t make it harder by speaking of your—­of the things that get near to me.  I am a man grown, and a Blount, like yourself; I want you to give me back those papers which your dynamiter or somebody else in your pay took from my office safe three nights ago.”

The senator’s eyes lighted with the gentle smile, and the tips of the great mustaches twitched slightly.

“So McVickar’s been telling tales out of school, has he?” he inquired half-jocularly.

“I have had no communication with Mr. McVickar.  It wasn’t necessary, nor is it needful for us to go aside out of the straight road.  I want those papers.  They are mine, and they were stolen.”

The elder man smiled again.  “What if I should say that I haven’t got ’em, son—­what then?” he asked mildly.

“I don’t want you to say that.  I want to believe that, however bitter this fight may grow, we shall still speak the truth to each other.”

There was silence for a little time, and then the father broke it to say:  “Reckon I could ask you what papers you mean, without roiling the water any more than it’s already been roiled, son?”

“You may ask and I’ll answer, if you’ll let me say that it is hardly worth while for you to spar with me to gain time.  I had certain documents—­letters—­which would have enabled me to come through clean with my own people—­with the railroad management.  You knew I had them; I was imprudent enough to boast of it one evening when we were dining together in your rooms.  I know what I’m talking about, dad, when I make this demand of you.  One of my clerks has been tampered with.  Three days ago, when I asked him to bring me the letters from the safe, he brought me, instead, a packet of blank paper which he allowed me to go and lock up in my safety-box in the Sierra National.  I don’t know why you had the safe blown up, unless it was to save Collins’s face.”

Again a silence intervened, and in the midst of it the senator sat up and began to feel half-absently in his pockets for a cigar.  Blount offered his own pocket-case, following it with the tender of a lighted match.  With the cigar going, the Honorable David settled back in the deep chair, chuckling thoughtfully.