One editorial writer did make a comment: "It is encouraging to see that President-elect Cannon consults with Vice-President-elect Matthew Fisher regularly and frequently as the appointments are made. For a good many years, ever since the Eisenhower Administration, back in the Fifties, it has been the policy of most of our Chief Executives to make sure that the Vice President is groomed to take over smoothly if anything should happen to the President. Senator Cannon, however, is, as far as we know, the first President-elect who has begun this grooming before the Inauguration. This, in our opinion, shows both wisdom and political astuteness." By the second week of the New Year, the new Cabinet had been picked. Contrary to the rumors before the election, the senator's brother had not been selected for any post whatever, but the men who _were_ picked for Cabinet posts were certainly of high caliber. The United States Senate had confirmed them all before Inauguration Day. That day was clear and cold in Washington. After the seemingly endless ceremonies and ceremonials, after the Inaugural Ball, and the Inaugural Supper, and the Inaugural Et Cetera, President James Cannon went to bed, complaining of a "slight headache". [Illustration] "Frankly," he told Vice President Matthew Fisher, "it is a real head-splitter." He took four aspirin and went to bed. He said he felt "a little better" the next day. * * * * * The fifth of February. Ten forty-eight in the evening. The White House, Washington, D.C. Dr. Frank Hewlitt Cannon stood in a darkened bedroom in Blair House, across the street from the Executive Mansion, nervously looking out the window, at the big white house across the way. He was not nervous for himself, although he had plenty of reason to be. He was clad in pajamas, as his brother had ordered, and had even taken the extra precaution of rumpling up his hair. He looked at his watch, and then looked back at the White House. _How long?_ he thought. _How long?_ He looked at his wrist again. The sweep hand only moved when he looked at it, apparently. He dropped his hands and clasped them behind his back. How long before he would know? _My kid brother_, he thought. _I could always outthink him and outfight him. But he's got something I haven't got. He's stuck to his guns and fought hard all these years. I couldn't do what he's doing tonight, and I know it. You're a better man than I am, kid._ Across Pennsylvania Avenue, Senator James Cannon was doing some heavy consideration, too. He sat on the edge of his bed and looked at the small tubular device in his hand. _Will Frank be safe? That's the only weak point in the plan._ Frank was safe. He _had_ to be. Frank hadn't been over from Blair House in three days. They hadn't even _seen_ each other in three days. The Secret Service men-- He threw a glance toward the door that led from his bedroom to the hall.