By "the planners" the man undoubtedly meant THAT WASHINGTON CROWD.

Doak finished his drink and went up the street to the grey house with the blue shutters on the curve.

There was a woman sitting on the front porch, a short and heavy woman with dark hair and brown eyes. She smiled at him and said, "Good evening," without rising.

"Mrs. Klein?" Doak asked and she nodded. He said, "The station agent told me you rented rooms and served meals. My name is Doak Parker."

"A pleasure, Mr. Parker. If you'll go through the living room and take that door at the east end of it, you'll come to a hall. The room at the back of the hall's the one, if you'd like to look at it." She didn't move from her chair.

He went into the dim living room and through the door and down the hall. A mahogany bed with a patchwork quilt for a spread, a mahogany dresser and a huge wicker chair, upholstered in a bright chintz. It was a chintzy house.

He looked out the back window and saw a neat lawn, bordered with flowering shrubs. He put his grip on the floor and came back to the living room.

There were windows along the front of this room and they were open. He could see Mrs. Klein in her chair and a girl standing next to her.

There was no reason for him to pause but he did. He'd heard Mrs.

Klein say, "Another meeting tonight, Martha?"

"Yes." The girl's voice was defensive.

"Why--why, Martha? Don't you realize the danger of--oh, Martha!"

"Mother, please. There's no danger. We're careful."

Doak coughed and walked out again onto the porch. The girl standing there was as dark as her mother but slim and long-legged and vividly beautiful.

Mrs. Klein said, "My daughter Martha, Mr. Parker. You liked the room?"

"It's fine," he said and to Martha, "How do you do?"

"How do you do, Mr. Parker? You've had supper?"

He nodded and lied, "In Milwaukee. I'm up here to try and get some money out of Senator Arnold. I wonder if this might be a good time to see him."

Mrs. Klein said, "I doubt if anytime is a good time to see him. You're a salesman, Mr. Parker?"

"No, no. It's philanthropy I'm concerned with. Mr. Arnold's old enough to start thinking about his benefactors."

"He'll probably leave it all to the dogs," Mrs. Klein said. "And you be careful of them, Mr. Parker."

"That I will," Doak said. "I think I'll walk up there now. Not much of a walk, I understand. Just over the hill, isn't it?"

It was the girl who answered. "That's right. I'm going that way myself. I'll be glad to show you the house."

Mrs. Klein said, "You're leaving so soon, Martha?"

"Right now. I'll be home early. Don't fret about me, Mother."

They went down the walk together, Doak and Martha, and he had forgotten June and the Department and all the girls who would be out, looking, tonight in Washington.

She walked easily at his side, poised and quiet.

He said, "Do you work in town?"

She nodded. "For an attorney. I was going to law school myself until Dad died."

"Oh," he said.

He wondered at his lack of words, and the strange sense of--almost of inferiority glimmering in him. She hadn't said anything or done anything to place him at a disadvantage but he knew this was no la.s.s for the casual pitch.

They came to the crest of the hill and saw the dying sun low in the west. The quiet was almost absolute. About a hundred yards on the other side of the ridge was a road leading off to the south. On the right side of this road was the big house with the high stone fence.

Doak said quietly, "There's a few sentences that have been bothering me all day. I wonder if you'd recognize them. They're, 'Studious, let me sit and hold high converse with the mighty dead.' One of the Scotch poets probably."

"Thomson," she said, "from his _Seasons_." She looked straight ahead.

"I'm not sure I understand exactly what he meant," Doak said.

"He meant--reading." She turned to look at him. "This is Senator Arnold's house, Mr. Parker. You might ask him what Thomson meant."

Her smile was brief and cool. She walked on.

Behind the fence, the dogs started to bark. In the huge gatepost was a pair of paneled doors about three feet high, the lower edges about four feet from the ground. A sign read, _Visitors, kindly use this phone_.

Doak opened the double doors and lifted the phone. As he did so a scanning light went on in the weatherproof niche. Someone said, "Yes?"

"Officer Parker of Security. I believe I'm expected."

"One moment, sir."

Silence, except for the sniffing dogs. And then the sniffing stopped and he heard the pad of their feet, as they raced for the house and the voice in the phone said, "The gates will be open soon, Mr.

Parker."

They opened in less than a minute. At the far end of the gravel drive a turreted monstrosity loomed, a weathered wooden structure that had undoubtedly once been white.

It was now as ashen as the face of Senator Arnold, bleak against the skyline, set back on a dandelion-covered lawn. Behind the wrought-iron fence, to the right of the house, the dogs watched him approach.

They were German Boxers, formidable creatures and great s...o...b..rers.

They drooled as he walked up to the low porch but uttered not a sound.

The man who opened the door was fat and needed a shave. He wore a shiny, duraserge suit. "Follow me, please, Mr. Parker."

III

Doak followed him through a high musty living room into a small room off this. There was a small hynrane heater in here, and the room was stifling.

Senator Arnold sat in a wheel chair, his feet elevated. He wore a greasy m.u.f.fler around his thin neck and a heavy reefer b.u.t.toned all the way up.