The result of this tirade was an extension of time. He talked until his voice became husky, all the while watching the hands of the clock. They seemed to crawl around at a snail's pace. But time moves on in spite of men and mice. Soon the timepiece pointed to ten minutes of five. Carlton talked on. The hands reached five minutes of five. The statesman continued his rambling discourse. The clock struck five. At that Hudson arose in a rage. He could risk no more delay. "I insist upon an immediate vote," he shouted. "And I demand a roll call on the request," retorted Carlton. Everybody knew that this was a dilatory motion. But the purpose was accomplished. Three or four more minutes were wasted. Then the inevitable came. The final call of the roll on whether Cleverly was to have its Naval Repair Station was ordered. Carlton sank in his seat exhausted. He had come to the end of his resources. He knew only too well that he was short one vote. Joel Phipps with his sing-song voice did his work expeditiously. Four-fifths of the names had been called and Conway had not come with his promised relief. Carlton gave one last anxious look at the door. No one was in sight. He gave a sigh--the sigh of a defeated man, and waited in a perfunctory way for the conclusion of the roll call. CHAPTER XXV A RACE AGAINST TIME After their talk with John Carlton, Barry and Felix left the meeting room together, and, hurrying down the corridor, emerged on the plaza fronting the Southern side of the Capitol. The boy was all a-quiver with excitement. "What did you mean by dumping all of those reports on John Carlton?" he asked. Conway laughed joyously. "That's food for thought. He must feed it out to the Committee by degrees." "What good will it do?" asked Barry, skeptically. "It will postpone the vote on the Cleverly bill." "But the postponement won't do any good unless Warrington gets here." "You've hit the nail on the head." Barry had confidence in the resourcefulness of the journalist. He felt sure that he had conceived some brilliant plan by which Warrington could be instantly and miraculously--if you will--delivered to Carlton. He wondered why Conway did not tell him all about it. His hints had not given him much satisfaction. So he spoke bluntly: "What are you trying to do?" The honest blue eyes of Felix twinkled. Perplexity was drowned in merriment. He threw up both hands in a gesture of abandonment. "Blest if I know!" Barry was so amazed at this unexpected reply that he stood stock still at the foot of the Capitol steps. "You don't know!" he interrogated in a reproachful tone. "No," replied the other, putting his hands in his pockets, and raising himself up and down on his heels, "I don't know." "And you left Mr. Carlton believing that you would be back with Warrington at your heels."