“I’m as obliged as I can be,” said Aladdin.  “It’s mighty good of you to come and talk to me like this, and except for the good will I have toward all your family, I don’t deserve it a bit.”

When John St. John had gone, the inky boy came to announce that another gentleman wished to speak with Mr. O’Brien.

The second gentleman proved to be the second brother, Hamilton St. John.

“Mr. O’Brien?” said he.

Aladdin shook hands with him.

“I came in for a moment,” said Hamilton St. John, “for the pleasure of telling you how tremendously grateful we all are to you for your song, which was such a big factor in my father’s redirection to the Senate.  But I want to say, too, that we’re more grateful for your good will than for the song, and if I can ever do you a service, I want you to feel perfectly free to come and ask it of me, whatever it is.”

Aladdin could have laughed for joy.  Margaret did not seem so far away as sometimes.

“I’m as obliged as I can be,” he said.  “It’s mighty good of you to come and talk to me like this, and except for the good will I have toward all your family, I don’t deserve it a bit, but I appreciate it just the same.”

Presently Hamilton St. John departed.

Again the inky boy, and this time grinning.

“There’s a gentleman would like to speak with you, sir,” he said.

“Show him in,” said Aladdin.

Hannibal St. John, Jr., entered.

“O’Brien,” he said, “I’ve often heard my sister Margaret speak about you, and I’ve been meaning for ever so long to look you up.  And I wish I’d done it before I had such an awfully good excuse as that song of yours, because I don’t know how to thank you, quite.  But I want you to understand that if at any time—­rubbish, you know what I mean.  Come up to the club, and we’ll make a drink and talk things over.”

He drew Aladdin’s arm into his, and they went out.

Aladdin had never before felt so near Margaret.

He returned to the office in half an hour, happy and a slave.  Hannibal St. John, Jr., had won the heart right out of him in ten minutes.  He sat musing and dreaming.  Was he to be one of those chosen?

“Gentleman to see you, sir.”

“Show him in.”

The inky snickered and hurried out.  He could be heard saying with importance, “This way, sir.  Look out for that press, sir.  It’s very dark in here, sir.”  And then, like a smart flunky in a house of condition, he appeared again at the door and announced

“Senator Hannibal St. John.”

Aladdin sprang up.

The senator, still suffering from the gout, and leaning heavily on his whalebone cane, limped majestically in.  There was an amiability on his face, which Aladdin had never seen there before.  He placed a chair for his distinguished guest.  The senator removed his high hat and stood it upon the edge of Aladdin’s desk.