“All right,” agreed Jonas, cheerfully.  “I guess ghosteses don’t mind travel, and that’s all I am, just a ghost.”

Enoch stopped abruptly, put a hand on Jonas’ shoulder and hailed a passing night prowler.  Once in the cab, Jonas said: 

“The White House done called you twice to-night.  Mr. Secretary.  I told ’em you’d call first thing in the morning.”

“Thanks!” replied Enoch briefly.

The house was silent when they reached it.  Jonas never employed servants who could not sleep in their own homes.  By the time the Secretary was ready for bed, Jonas appeared with a tray, Enoch silently and obediently ate and then turned in.

The White House called before the Secretary had finished breakfast.

“You saw last night’s papers?” asked the President.

“No!  I’m sorry.  I—­I took a rest last evening.”

“I’m glad you did.  Well, I think you’d better plan—­come up here, will you, at once?  I won’t try to talk to you over the telephone.”

Enoch, in the carriage, glanced over the paper.  The Brown paper of the evening before contained a nasty little story of innuendo about the work of the Survey near Paloma.  The morning paper declared in glaring headlines that the President by his pacifist policy toward Mexico was tainting the nation’s honor and that it would shortly bring England, France and Germany about our ears.

The President was still at breakfast when Enoch was shown in to him.  The chief executive insisted that Enoch have a cup of coffee.

“You don’t look to me, my boy, like a man who had enjoyed his rest.  And I’m going to ask you to add to your burdens.  Could you leave next week for a speaking trip?”

The tired lines around Enoch’s mouth deepened.  “Yes, Mr. President.  Have you a general route planned?”

“Yes, New York, Chicago, Denver, San Francisco and in between as can be arranged.  Take two months to it.”

“I shall be glad to be free of office routine for a while,” said Enoch.  He sipped his coffee slowly, then rose as he added: 

“I shall stick strictly to the work of my department, Mr. President, in the speech making.”

“Oh!  Absolutely!  And let me be of any help to you I may.”

“Thank you,” Enoch smiled a little grimly.  “You might come along and supply records for the phonograph.”

“By Jove, I would if it were necessary!” said the President.

Jonas and Abbott each was perfect in his own line.  In five days’ time Enoch was aboard the private car, with such paraphernalia as was needed for carrying on office work en route.  The itinerary had been arranged to the last detail.  A few carefully chosen newspaper correspondents were aboard and one hot September evening, a train with the Secretary’s car hitched to it, pulled out of Washington.