"Exactly. Carew and old Governor Lane were political rivals. Lord! how they hated each other! They almost tore Maryland asunder when running for the governorship, which Lane won by a few votes. Carew charged fraud, which, however, was never proved. They cherished their animosity to the day of Governor Lane's death, and I can imagine it was a terrible shock to Carew to find that his dearly loved niece wanted to marry the Governor's son." "What sort of a fellow is Lane?" asked Douglas. "A fine specimen of the American gentleman," exclaimed Thornton enthusiastically, "a soldier, every inch of him, brave to a fault; he has twice been mentioned in orders for gallant conduct--just the sort of a fellow a romantic young girl like Cynthia would fall head over heels in love with." "In naming his virtues you have overlooked his greatest fault," said Brett calmly. "He has a fiendish temper, and, when provoked, falls into the most insane rages, so his brother officers tell me." "You are making out a black case against him," agreed Douglas, "but there is one point you seem to have overlooked, and that is, did the letter file used to kill Senator Carew belong to Mrs. Owen?" "That is the one flaw in my case," acknowledged Brett regretfully. "She declines to answer the question." CHAPTER XIII AT THE WHITE HOUSE "There's a note done cum fo' yo', suh," announced the elevator boy lounging in the doorway of the Albany as Douglas stepped inside the entrance of the apartment hotel. "I'll get it," and visions of a tip caused the mulatto to hasten his leisurely footsteps to the small office to the left of the entrance. In a few seconds he was back at the elevator shaft, where Douglas stood waiting, and handed him a square envelope stamped with the words "State Department" in the left-hand corner. "Wanter go to yer room, suh," slipping the expected coin in his trousers' pocket. "Yes." The door slammed shut, and the elevator shot upward. "Anyone been to see me or telephoned, Jonas?" "No, suh." The mulatto brought the cage to a standstill at the third floor, and Douglas stepped out and hastened to his tiny apartment. Throwing his hat and cane on the bed, he drew a chair to the open window, having first made sure, with a caution which had grown upon him, that the hall door was securely locked, and that the chambermaid was not loitering in the vicinity. As he opened the note an enclosure fell into his lap, and, without looking at it, he perused the few written lines. It was from the Secretary of State. Dear Mr. Hunter: [he read] So far, no further developments. When people are at play they are usually "off guard." I enclose an invitation to the garden party at the White House this afternoon, for which I asked. The Diplomatic Corps will attend in a body. I hope to see you there. Very truly yours----