“Certainly, I recall it.  I knew Rice.”

Enoch nodded.  “Do you recall that a number of newspapers took occasion then to sneer at government attempts to usurp State and commercial functions?”

“Now you speak of it, I do remember.  The Brown papers were especially nasty.”

“Yes,” agreed Enoch.  “Now listen closely, Abbott.  When my suspicions had been sufficiently roused, I went to the Secretary of State, and he laughed at me.  Then, the Mexico trouble began to come to a head and I told the President what I feared.  This was after I’d had that letter from Juan Cadiz.  Last night, as you know, I had a session with Cadiz and one of his bandit friends.  Here is what I drew from them.”

Enoch reviewed rapidly his conversation of the night before.  Abbott listened with snapping eyes.

“It looks as if Secretary Fowler would have to stop laughing,” he said, when Enoch had finished.

“Abbott,” Enoch’s voice was very low, “John Fowler, the Secretary of State, always will laugh at it.”

“Why?” asked Charley.

“I don’t know,” replied Enoch.

The two men stared at each other for a long moment.  Then Abbott said, “I’ve known for a long time that he was jealous of you, politically.  Also he may own Mexican oil stock or he may merely wish to have the political backing of the Brown newspapers.”

“Can you think of any method of persuading him that I am not a political rival, that I merely want to go to the Senate, when I have finished here?” asked Enoch earnestly.

Abbott shook his head, “He might be convinced that you want to be a Senator.  But he’s a clever man.  And even a fool knows that you are America’s man on horseback.”  Charley’s voice rose a little.  “Why, even in this rotten, cynical city of Washington, they believe in you, they feel that you are the man of destiny.  Mr. Fowler is just clever enough to be jealous of you.”

A look of sadness came into Enoch’s keen gaze.  “I wonder if the game is worth it, after all,” murmured he.  “Abbott, I’d swap it all for—­” he stopped abruptly, looked broodingly out of the window, then said, “Charley, my boy, why are you going into political life?”

The younger man’s eyes deepened and he cleared his throat.  “A few years ago, if I’d answered that question truthfully, I’d have said for personal aggrandizement!  But my intimate association with you, Mr. Huntingdon, has given me a different ideal.  I’m going into politics to serve this country in the best way I can.”

“Thanks, Abbott,” said Enoch.  “I’ve been wanting to say to you for some time that I thought you had served your apprenticeship as a secretary.  How would you like an appointment as a special investigator?”

Charley shook his head.  “As long as you are Secretary of the Interior, I prefer this job; not only because of my personal feeling for you but because I can learn more here about the way a clean political game can be played than I can anywhere else.”