“Is that so?” asked Enoch with interest.  “Come in and talk to me a few moments about it.”

Whipple followed to the Secretary’s office.  A sealed letter was lying on the desk.  Enoch opened it, and read it without ceremony.

“Dear Mr. Huntingdon:  I find that some old friends are starting for the Grand Canyon this afternoon and they have given me an opportunity to make one of their party.  I have been able to arrange my work to Mr. Watkins’ satisfaction and so, I’m off.  I want to thank you very deeply for the wonderful openings you have made for me and for the very great personal kindness you have shown me.  When I return in the winter, I hope I may see you again.

“Very sincerely yours,

“Diana Allen.”

Enoch folded the note and slipped it into his pocket, then he looked at the waiting Director.  “I hope you’ll excuse me, Whipple, but this is something to which I must give my personal attention,” and without a word further, he put on his hat and walked out of the office.  He did not go to his waiting carriage but, leaving the building by another door, he walked quickly to the drug store on the corner and, entering a telephone booth, called the railroad station.  The train connecting for the Southwest had left an hour before.  Enoch hung up the receiver and walked out to the curb, scowling and striking his walking stick against his trouser leg.  Finally he got aboard a trolley.

It was a little after three o’clock in the morning when Jonas located him.  Enoch was leaning against the wall watching the roulette table.

“Good evening, boss,” said Jonas.

Enoch looked round at him.  “That you, Jonas?  I haven’t touched a card or a dollar this evening, Jonas.”

Jonas, who had already ascertained this from the owner of the gambling house, nodded.

“Have you had your supper yet, boss?”

Enoch hesitated, thinking heavily.  “Why, no, Jonas, I guess not.”  Then he added irritably, “A man must rest, Jonas.  I can’t slave all the time.”

“Sure!” returned the colored man, holding his trembling hands behind him.  “But how come you to think this was rest, boss?  You better come back now and let me fix you a bite to eat.”

“Jonas, what’s the use?  Who on earth but you cares what I do?  What’s the use?”

“Miss Diana Allen,” said Jonas softly, “she told Mr. Abbott this noon, at lunch, that you was one of the great men of this country and that he was a lucky dog to spend all his time with you.”

Enoch stood, his arms folded on his chest, his massive head bowed.  Finally he said, “All right, old man, I’ll try again.  But I’m lonely, Jonas, lonely beyond words, and all the greatness in the world, Jonas, can’t fill an empty heart.”

“I know it, boss!  I know it!” said Jonas huskily, as he led the way to the street.  There, Enoch insisted on walking the three or four miles home.