A bell boy conducted him to the Whittaker room “on the saloon deck.” It was a small room, very different from the Atkins library, and Captain Cy, in a cane-seated chair, was huddled close to the steam radiator. He looked far from well. “Evenin', Heman,” he said as the congressman entered. “Pretty dirty night, ain't it? What we'd call a gray no'theaster back home. Sit down. Don't mind my not gettin' up. This heatin' arrangement feels mighty comf'table just now. If I get too far away from it I shiver my deck planks loose. Take off your things.” Mr. Atkins did not remove his overcoat. His hat he tossed on the bed. He glanced fearfully at his companion. The latter's greeting had been so casual and everyday that he took courage. And the captain looked anything but formidable as he hugged the radiator. Perhaps things were not so bad as he had feared. He resolved not to seem alarmed, at all events. “Have a cigar, Heman?” said Captain Cy. “No? Well, all right; I will, if you don't mind.” He lit the cigar. The congressman cleared his throat. “Cyrus,” he said, “I am not accustomed to run at the beck and call of my--er--acquaintances, but, even though we have disagreed of late, even though to me your conduct seems quite unjustifiable, still, for the sake of our boyhood friendship, and, because you are not well, I--er--came.” Captain Cy coughed spasmodically, a cough that seemed to be tearing him to pieces. He looked at his cigar regretfully, and laid it on the top of the radiator. “Too bad,” he observed. “Tobacco gen'rally iles up my talkin' machinery, but just now it seems to make me bark like a ship's dog shut up in the hold. Why, yes, Heman, I see you've come. Much obliged to you.” This politeness was still more encouraging. Atkins leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. “I presume,” he said, “that you wish to ask concerning the appropriation. I regret--” “You needn't. I guess we'll get the appropriation.” Heman's condescension vanished. He leaned forward and uncrossed his legs. “Indeed?” he said slowly, his eyes fixed on the captain's placid face. “Yes--indeed.” “Whittaker, what are you talking about? Do you suppose that I have been the representative of my people in Congress all these years without knowing whereof I speak? They left the matter in my hands, and your interference--” “I ain't goin' to interfere. I'M goin' to leave it in your hands, too. And I cal'late you'll be able to find a way to get it. Um--hum, I guess likely you will.” The visitor rose to his feet. The time had come for another blast from Olympus. He raised the mighty right arm. But Captain Cy spoke first. “Sit down, Heman,” said the captain quietly. “Sit down. This ain't town meetin'. Never mind the appropriation now. There's other matters to be talked about first. Sit down, I tell you.” Mr. Atkins was purple in the face, but he sat down. The captain coughed again.