“I should say,” Edestone’s face was set, “simply this, Mr. Secretary, if I must speak in the language of the people in order that you may understand me: ‘I should like very much to have your backing in the game, but if you are going to sit on the opposite side of the table, I hold three kings and two emperors in my hand, and I challenge you to a show-down.’ I should further say that, credentials or no credentials, I am leaving tomorrow on the _Ivernia_, and that inasmuch as I have a taxi at the door, and a special train held for me at the Union Station, I must bid you good-day, and leave you to your watchful waiting, while I work alone.” He rose from his seat, and with a bow started for the door. “Hold on there, young fellow, keep your coat on!” the Secretary shouted, throwing his head back and laughing loud enough to be heard over on the Virginia shores. “You remind me of one of those gentle breezes out home, which after it has dropped the cow-shed into the front parlour and changed your Post-Office address, seems always to sort of clear up the atmosphere. When one of them comes along we generally allow it to have its own way. It doesn’t matter much whether we do or not, it will take it anyhow. I never play cards, but what you say about having a few kings in your pants’ pocket seems to be pretty nearly true. You are made of the real stuff, and if you can do all the things that you say you can do, and I believe you can, nothing will stop you.” “In that case,” said Edestone, resuming his seat, “I suppose I may as well wait for my credentials.” And in due time he got them, the presentation being made by the Secretary to the edification of the Baptist School children and the Methodist Soldiers of Temperance and a score of adoring admirers. Then with a hasty farewell to the officials of the State Department, this emissary of peace started on his hurried rush to New York. His taxi, which he had held since seven o’clock that morning, broke all speed regulations in getting to the station, and the man was well paid for his pains. Edestone found his Special coupled up and waiting for him. He always travelled in specials, and they always waited for him. In fact, everything waited for him, and he waited for no one. When he engaged a taxi he never discharged it until he went to bed or left the town. It was related of him that on one occasion he had directed the taxi to wait for him at Charing Cross Station, and returning from Paris three days later had allowed his old friend, the cabby, who knew him well, a shilling an hour as a _pourboire_. He claimed that his mind worked smoothly as long as it could run ahead without waits, but that as soon as it had to halt for anything--a cab, a train, or a slower mind to catch up--it got from under his control and it took hours to get it back again. To him money was only to be spent. He would say: “I spend money because that calls for no mental effort, and saving is not worth the trouble that it requires.”