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"This Steinert check 'll do the trick. Take a closer look at the signature. Do you get it?" "What about it?" she asked, without a tremor. He restored the check to his wallet and the wallet to his pocket. She would find it impossible to outdo him in the matter of impassivity. "I may or I may not know who forged that check. I don't want to know. And when you tell me where Binhart is, I won't know."
"We can't deny it, but we will not affirm it. We will tell interviewers that we prefer not to talk about it." "It's our only chance," replied Stevens, cautiously. "Yes; and we owe it all to Jake Steinert," went on Peabody. "That fellow Telfer will do anything to please Jake. Jake has convinced Telfer that Langdon was responsible for the defeat of Gulf City, and the Mayor is wild for revenge."
A ring of a bell announced the arrival of Jake Steinert, whose reputation as a lobbyist of advanced ability had spread wide in the twenty years he had spent in Washington. Of medium height, sallow complexion, dark hair and dark eyes, his broad shoulders filled the doorway as he entered.
This brought me two places away from Peters and next to a stout German woman whose name, as I understood it, was Mrs. Steinert. On Mrs. Towne's right sat Dr. Paul and Professor Franks, my friend. Within the circle Towne had set a small table, on which were placed pencils and paper. The chain was formed by locking our little fingers tightly.
The senior Senator from Mississippi had been the first to point out to Peabody the possibilities for profit in the gulf naval base project, but the morning following the conference with Steinert when he rejoined them for breakfast at the Louis Napoleon he was far from comfortable.
I'd give 'em Yellowstone National Park for a freight sidin' if 'twas any use to 'em, he says. So you see " "I must go," broke in Stevens, rising and glancing at his watch. "It will soon be daylight." "If you must have sleep, go; but you must be here at 9 o'clock sharp in the morning," said Peabody. "Steinert will sleep here with me.
Steinert, he withdrew into the passage-way leading to the dining-room, requesting that the circle resolve itself into a half-circle facing the cabinet. You will remember that we were in a private house, and that all question of collusion is barred out.
"Unless you got the right kind of a woman," went on Steinert. Senator Stevens choked some more. "The boss of the Senate" sank down in his chair, crossed one knee over the other and drummed his fingers lightly on the table. He gazed thoughtfully at Stevens. "Yes," he observed, slowly, "unless you've got the right sort of a woman." Rising, he led the Mississippian to one side.
Jake Steinert did not belong in either of these classes; he ranked somewhere between the biggest and the smallest. He coupled colossal boldness with the most expert knowledge of all the intricate workings of the congressional mechanism.
"The boss of the Senate" smiled patronizingly on the senior Senator from Mississippi, as though amused and scornful of his limitations as a strategist, as a tenacious fighter. Then his jaw set hard, and his brows contracted. "I will not do anything. I cannot do anything" he hesitated a full ten seconds "but Jake Steinert can." Stevens' hands twitched nervously.
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