Haines, the ablest political reporter in Washington, had come to the International to interview the new Senator, to describe for his paper what kind of a citizen Langdon was. He glanced around at the dingy woodwork, the worn cushions, the nicked and uneven tiles of the hotel lobby, and smiled at the clerk. "Well, if this is the new Senator's idea of princely luxury he will fit right into the senatorial atmosphere." Both laughed derisively. "By the way," added Haines, "I suppose you'll raise your rates now that you've got a Senator here." The clerk brought his fist down on the register with a thud. "We could have them every day if we wanted them. This fellow, though, we'll have all winter, I guess. His son's here now. Been breaking all records for drinking. Congressman Norton of Mississippi has been down here with him a few times. There young Langdon is now." Haines turned quickly, just in time to bump into a tall, slender young man, who was walking unevenly in the direction of the café. "Well, can't you see what you're doing?" muttered the tall young man thickly. Haines smiled. The chap who has played halfback four years on his college eleven and held the boxing championship in his class is apt to be good-natured. He does not have to take offense easily. Besides, Randolph Langdon was plainly under the influence of whisky. So Haines smiled pleasantly at the taller young man. "Beg your pardon--my fault," Haines said. "Well, don't let it occur again," mumbled Langdon, as he strolled with uneven dignity toward the door. Bud Haines laughed. "I guess young Langdon is going to be one of the boys, isn't he?" "He's already one of them when it comes to a question of fluid capacity," laughed some one behind him, and Bud whirled to meet the gaze of his friend, Dick Gullen, representative of one of the big Chicago dailies. "You down here to see Langdon, too?" commented Bud. Cullen nodded. "Queer roost where this Senator is to hang out, isn't it?" "He can't be a rich one, then," suggested Haines. Cullen chuckled. "Perhaps he's an honest one." "I hadn't thought of that. You always were original, Dickie," commented Haines, dryly. "By the way, what do you know about him?" "Nothing, except that the _Evening Call_ printed a picture of his eldest daughter--says she's the queen daughter of the South, a famous beauty, rich planter for a father, mother left her a fortune--" "She'll cut quite a social caper with this hotel's name on her cards, won't she?" broke in Haines, as he led Cullen to a seat to await the expected legislator, whose train was late.