She realized suddenly that her spirit of fiery protest was provoking her into an argument that might seem rather ridiculous if somebody in real authority should overhear her talking to Wyman and his mate. The portico door opened into a remote corridor. "The only lunatic, up to date, Miss Corson, has been a Canuck who had a knock-down and drag-out with a settee and--" Lana was not finding Wyman's statement especially convincing in the way of establishing faith in his sanity. "I thank you for letting me in! I must find my father." The interior of the Capitol building was familiar ground to her. It occurred to her sense of discretion that it might be well to avoid Captain Sweetsir in his new exaltation as a military martinet. She found a narrow, curving stairway which served employees. On the second floor, hastening along the dimly lighted corridors, turning several corners, she reached the spacious hall outside the Senate lobby. She paused for a moment. From the hall she could look down the broad, main stairway which conducted to the rotunda. The rumble of trucks had attracted her attention. Soldiers were moving a machine-gun; they lined it up with two others that were already facing the great doors of the main entrance. She had half hoped that her father was in the rotunda, using his influence and his wisdom, now that the mob was threatening the building outside those great doors. She did not understand just how the Senator would be able to operate, she admitted to herself, but she felt that his manly advice could prevail in keeping his fellow-citizens from murdering one another! In the gloom below her she saw only soldiers and uniformed Capitol watchmen. Across from her in the upper hall where she waited there was the entrance to the wing which contained the Executive Chambers. Two men, one of whom was talking earnestly, came along the corridor from the direction of the chambers. Still mindful of what Tasper had said about the State House rules of that evening, she did not want to take chances with others who might be less amenable than Florist-Clerk Wyman. There were high-backed chairs in the corners of the hall; she hid herself behind the nearest chair. Her dark fur coat and the twilight concealed her effectually. "General Totten, if you don't fully comprehend your plain duty in this crisis, you'd better stop right here with me until you do. We can't afford to have those soldiers overhear. Are you going to order them to march out of this State House?" This peremptory gentleman was Stewart Morrison! Lana choked back what threatened to be an exclamation. "I refuse to take that responsibility on myself." "You must! Such a command to state troops must come from you, the adjutant-general." "This is a political exigency, Mister Mayor!" "It seems like that to me!" "It requires martial law." "But not civil war." "This building is threatened by a mob." "That's because you have put it in a state of siege against citizens."