“You mustn’t forget Paret,” Mr. Watling reminded him, with a wink at me.

We had risen.  Mr. Scherer laid a hand on my arm.

“No, no, I do not forget him.  He will not permit me to forget him.”

A remark, I thought, that betrayed some insight into my character...  Mr. Watling called for pen and paper and made then and there a draft of the proposed bill, for no time was to be lost.  It was dark when we left the Club, and I recall the elation I felt and strove to conceal as I accompanied my chief back to the office.  The stenographers and clerks were gone; alone in the library we got down the statutes and set to work. to perfect the bill from the rough draft, on which Mr. Fowndes had written his suggestions.  I felt that a complete yet subtle change had come over my relationship with Mr. Watling.

In the midst of our labours he asked me to call up the attorney for the Railroad.  Mr. Gorse was still at his office.

“Hello!  Is that you, Miller?” Mr. Watling said.  “This is Wading.  When can I see you for a few minutes this evening?  Yes, I am leaving for Washington at nine thirty.  Eight o’clock.  All right, I’ll be there.”

It was almost eight before he got the draft finished to his satisfaction, and I had picked it out on the typewriter.  As I handed it to him, my chief held it a moment, gazing at me with an odd smile.

“You seem to have acquired a good deal of useful knowledge, here and there, Hugh,” he observed.

“I’ve tried to keep my eyes open, Mr. Watling,” I said.

“Well,” he said, “there are a great many things a young man practising law in these days has to learn for himself.  And if I hadn’t given you credit for some cleverness, I shouldn’t have wanted you here.  There’s only one way to look at—­at these matters we have been discussing, my boy, that’s the common-sense way, and if a man doesn’t get that point of view by himself, nobody can teach it to him.  I needn’t enlarge upon it”

“No, sir,” I said.

He smiled again, but immediately became serious.

“If Mr. Gorse should approve of this bill, I’m going to send you down to the capital—­to-night.  Can you go?”

I nodded.

“I want you to look out for the bill in the legislature.  Of course there won’t be much to do, except to stand by, but you will get a better idea of what goes on down there.”

I thanked him, and told him I would do my best.

“I’m sure of that,” he replied.  “Now it’s time to go to see Gorse.”

The legal department of the Railroad occupied an entire floor of the Corn Bank building.  I had often been there on various errands, having on occasions delivered sealed envelopes to Mr. Gorse himself, approaching him in the ordinary way through a series of offices.  But now, following Mr. Watling through the dimly lighted corridor, we came to a door on which no name was painted, and which was presently opened by a stenographer.  There was in the proceeding a touch of mystery that revived keenly my boyish love for romance; brought back the days when I had been, in turn, Captain Kidd and Ali Baba.