Austen went slowly down the street and entered the smoke-clouded lobby of the Pelican.  He was a man to draw attention, and he was stared at by many politicians there and spoken to by some before he reached the stairs.  Mounting, he found the door with the numeral, and knocked.  The medley of voices within ceased; there were sounds of rattling papers, and of closing of folding doors.  The key turned in the lock, and State Senator Nathaniel Billings appeared in the doorway, with a look of polite inquiry on his convivial face.  This expression, when he saw Austen, changed to something like consternation.

“Why, hello, hello,” said the senator.  “Come in, come in.  The Honourable Hilary’s here.  Where’d you come down?”

“Hello, Nat,” said Austen, and went in.

The Honourable Hilary sat in his usual arm-chair; Mr. Botcher severely strained the tensile strength of the bedsprings; Mr. Hamilton Tooting stood before the still waving portieres in front of the folding doors; and Mr. Manning, the division superintendent, sat pensively, with his pen in his mouth, before the marble-topped table from which everything had been removed but a Bible.  Two gentlemen, whom Austen recognized as colleagues of Mr. Billings in the State Senate, stood together in a window, pointing out things of interest in the street.  Austen walked up to his father and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“How are you, Judge?” he said.  “I only came into pay my respects.  I hope I have not disturbed any—­entertainment going on here,” he added, glancing in turn at the thoughtful occupants of the room, and then at the curtains which hid the folding doors to the apartment of his Excellency.

“Why, no,” answered the Honourable Hilary, his customary grunt being the only indication of surprise on his part; “didn’t know you were coming down.”

“I didn’t know it myself until this morning,” said Austen.

“Legislative case, I suppose,” remarked the Honourable Jacob Botcher, in his deep voice.

“No, merely a pleasure trip, Mr. Botcher.”

The Honourable Jacob rubbed his throat, the two State senators in the window giggled, and Mr. Hamilton Tooting laughed.

“I thought you took to the mountains in such cases, sir,” said Mr. Botcher.

“I came for intellectual pleasure this time,” said Austen.  “I understand that Mr. Crewe is to deliver an epoch-making speech on the national situation to-morrow.”

This was too much even for the gravity of Mr. Manning; Mr. Tooting and Mr. Billings and his two colleagues roared, though the Honourable Jacob’s laugh was not so spontaneous.

“Aust,” said Mr. Tooting, admiringly, you’re all right.”

“Well, Judge,” said Austen, patting his father’s shoulder again, “I’m glad to see you so comfortably fixed.  Good-by, and give my regards to the governor.  I’m sorry to have missed him,” he added, glancing at the portieres that hid the folding doors.