With that he hurried into the room where nearly all of the members of the Committee had assembled. Barry was in despair. He tried to tell his news and failed. In the meantime Joel Phipps, the clerk, was calling the roll to ascertain whether a quorum of the Committee was in attendance. Barry, at his post in the doorway, could see Mr. Carlton flitting about from one member to another. While he stood there Felix Conway came along and greeted him cordially. The sight of that beaming countenance was to the boy like a grateful rain upon a parched desert. What he had tried to tell the Congressman he could impart to Conway's receptive ears. Felix listened in silence. At the conclusion of the narrative he gave a prolonged whistle. "Did you tell this to John Carlton?" he demanded. "I tried to, but I couldn't get him to listen." "Oh. I suppose he was so busy that he didn't know what you were talking about." "That's right. I don't think he knew what I meant." "I wonder how we can reach him?" asked Felix; then almost immediately answering his own question, he said: "Thank goodness, he's coming out now." Carlton was slowly making his way to the door. It was evident from his looks and his manner that something was wrong. His forehead was drawn and his eyebrows contracted with a frown. There was a grayish look about the corners of his mouth. It was rare indeed for this self-contained man to show such emotion. "Well," exclaimed Conway, anticipating him, "how are things going? Have you got your majority of three?" The Congressman shook his head with a gesture of disgust. "No--they've got Curwood. I was sure he was with me last night, but he tells me now that he is going to vote against the bill." "But that still leaves you a majority of one." Carlton wagged his head again. "It would if all my supporters were here--but one's away." "Who is he?" "Warrington." Conway slapped Barry on the back. "That proves your story, my boy." "What story?" asked Carlton, quickly. "The story Wynn was trying to tell you when you went into the meeting." He smiled in a melancholy way. "I was so distracted that I didn't really know what Barry was trying to say." Prompted by the journalist, the page boy himself repeated what he had heard in the hotel lobby the night before. As he concluded, Conway exclaimed: "What do you think of that?" "I'm fighting a resourceful crowd," admitted Carlton, sorrowfully. Before he had finished the sentence, Conway had rushed over to a telephone booth and had the receiver at his ear. He was back in a minute, his face flushed. "I've had Warrington's apartments. His housekeeper tells me that he went to Wynnwood this morning. He told her he would take dinner there and return in time for the meeting of your Committee this afternoon. Barry," he concluded, "get me a suburban timetable." Quickly the page boy returned with a railroad schedule. Conway looked it over feverishly. He gave a groan. "What's the matter?" asked Carlton.