But no miracles took place. Eleven-fifteen went by, and eleven-thirty, and there was no sign of Thurman. Clerks serenely went about their routine duties, ignoring the tense, sweating man in the outer office. At ten-to-twelve Harker rose and confronted the secretary again. "Any word from Thurman?" "Not yet, sir," was the bland reply. Harker crooked his fingers impatiently. "Look here, why don't you phone his home? Maybe he's seriously ill." "We never disturb the Senator at home, sir." Harker glared at the man, exhaled exasperatedly, and growled, "I guess you won't give me his home phone number." "Afraid not, sir." "Is there anything you _will_ do? Suppose you phone the office of Senator Fletcher for me, then." Fletcher was the Senate Majority Leader, another veteran Nat-Lib who was likely to know where to reach Thurman if anyone was. A little to Harker's surprise, the secretary said, "You can use the phone back here. Just pick up and tell the switchboard who you want." The phone was audio-only. A metallic voice said, "_Your party please?_" and Harker, resisting the temptation to ask for Thurman's home number (it was probably restricted) said, "Would you connect me with Senator Fletcher's office?" Four secretaries later, Harker heard the deep, confident voice of Pennsylvania's Fletcher say, "What can I do for you, Harker? Heard you were in town." "I'm here to see Senator Thurman," Harker said. "Do you know where--" "Thurman? Where are you now, Harker?" "At the Senator's office. He isn't here, and I thought you might know--" "Me? Harker, if I knew where Thurman was I'd be talking to him and not to you. I'm looking for him myself." Harker's hopes sank. "Have you phoned his home?" "Yes. Nobody there has seen him since early last evening. If you get any word, Harker, call me back." The line went dead. Harker stared at the phone thoughtfully a moment, then replaced the receiver. He walked over to the smug secretary and said casually, "You better start looking for a new job. Senator Thurman hasn't been seen since some time last night. "What? But--" Interrupting the agitated reply, Harker said, "You better make some quick phone-calls. I'll be back later if the Senator turns up." * * * * * The next two hours were hectic ones in the Capitol. Harker picked up an early afternoon newspaper when he saw the huge scare-head reading WHERE IS SENATOR THURMAN? The article simply said that the 88-year-old Senator had last been seen at his huge bachelor home in nearby Alexandria shortly after dark the previous night, and that nothing had been heard of him since. Secret Service men were combing Washington and the outlying districts. The three-thirty headlines screamed, THURMAN STILL MISSING!