He took the check and left the room, still snorting.  Milton rose.  “I mustn’t intrude any longer, Mr. Secretary.”

“Luckily I’m free, to-night,” said Enoch.  “We’ll have a great talk.  Ask Cheney to come in, please.”

“Mr. Cheney,” asked Enoch, when Milton had gone, “do you think you could find out whether or not that fellow Ames has returned from Arizona?”

“Yes, we can do that without much trouble.  Was Milton able to straighten matters up with you, Mr. Secretary?”

“He didn’t have to.  I’m an ardent admirer of Milton’s.  He’s going to stop at my house, while he’s in Washington.  Why don’t you take him out of the field and begin to groom him for your job, Mr. Cheney?  He should be ready for it in a few years.”

Cheney nodded.  “He’s a good man.  I’ll think it over.  And I will telephone Abbott about Ames.”

It was fortunate for Enoch that Milton was with him that evening, for the knowledge that Diana was in Washington and that he could not see her was quite as agonizing as he had suspected it would be.  Yet it was impossible not to enjoy Milton’s continual surprise and pleasure at the change in the Judge’s identity and it was a real delight to make once more the voyage to the Ferry not only for its own sake but because with the landing at the Ferry came much conversation on the part of Jonas and Milton about Diana.  But Enoch did not sleep well that night and reached his office in the morning, heavy-eyed and grim.

Abbott, standing beside the Secretary’s desk was even more grim.  “Mr. Cheney was too slow getting us the information about Ames,” he said, pointing to the newspaper that lay on the desk.

Enoch lighted a cigar very deliberately, then began to read.  It was a detailed account of the vacation trip of the Secretary of the Interior.  It was written with devilish ingenuity, purporting to show that Enoch in his hours of relaxation was a thorough-going good fellow.  The account said that Enoch had picked up a mining outfit made up of two notorious gamblers.  That the three had then annexed two Indian bucks and a squaw and had slowly made their way into the Grand Canyon, ostensibly to placer mine, actually to play cards and hunt.  The story was witty, and contained some good word pictures of the Canyon country.  It was subtle in its wording, but it was from first to last an unforgettable smirching of Enoch’s character.

Enoch laid the paper down.  “Abbott,” he said slowly, “the time has come to act.  I want Mr. Fowler, Mr. Brown, this fellow Ames, or whatever reporter wrote the first article about me to come to my office tomorrow afternoon at five o’clock.  If it is necessary to ask the President for authority to bring them here, I shall ask for it.”

Abbott’s eyes glowed.  “Thank God, at last!” he exclaimed.  “Shall I prepare a denial of this stuff.”

“No!  At least they have left Miss Allen out.  We may be thankful and let it stand at that.  Now, start the procession in, Abbott.  I’m in no mood to dictate letters.”