First stopping at a florist's and then a jeweler's establishment, Miller bent his footsteps toward the Portland, and to his satisfaction found Senator Foster enjoying a belated breakfast in his apartment. "I'm glad to discover a man keeping later hours than I," he remarked, accepting the chair Foster pulled forward. "You must have an easy conscience to sleep so late in the morning." "Or enjoyed the devil of a night--er--mare." The Senator's face was flushed and his strong voice husky. "You mistake; this is luncheon, not breakfast, Keep me company? No?" Foster pecked viciously at his lamb chop. "I've no appetite at all. Caught a beastly cold at the Sisters in Unity meeting last night. Cough all the time--beastly climate, Washington." "Why stay here?" "Oh, Congress...." "But that adjourned three weeks ago." Foster frowned, then smiled. "A woman's whim--we are not always independent, Miller"--a shrug completed the sentence. "Change your mind and have some Scotch?" "No, thanks." Miller drew his chair closer to his companion, and lowered his voice. "I called this morning, Senator, to ask some questions about Winslow Whitney." Foster's smile vanished, and the glance he shot at Miller was sharp. "It depends on the questions," he began stiffly, "whether they are answered or not." "Quite right," with unruffled composure. "I shall ask nothing which cannot be answered with propriety." Miller ceased speaking to light a cigarette. "All Washington knows Whitney is a man of wealth"--his keen eyes detected the sudden alteration in Foster's expression--"of standing in the social and business world, but has he achieved success as an inventor?" "Yes," was the instant and unqualified response, and Miller's eyes lighted, but it was some seconds before he put another question. "Are you familiar with his latest invention?" "You mean his camera for use in aeroplanes?" "Yes. Do you think it has any hope of success?" "I believe so; Whitney declares the experiments are entirely satisfactory." "Have you seen results of the tests?" "Whitney showed me views of New York City and its environs taken from an aeroplane. They were--wonderful--" the Senator puffed nervously at his cigar--"perfect maps." "Indeed?" Miller made no effort to conceal his eager curiosity. "At what height were they taken?" "Ah, that I do not feel at liberty to disclose. How, when, and where this new camera can be utilized is of interest to all military men; but as Whitney's friend, I could not divulge details he may desire kept secret, even if I knew them." "Pardon me, I thought you his most intimate friend...." "I am, but not his confidant. And as his friend, I cannot discuss his private affairs with you." "I don't agree with you there." Miller tossed his cigarette stub into the iron grate. "Would it not be a friendly act to place Whitney in a position to coin money?"