Part 37

"Neither!" said Croyden. "There is another way--except killing them, which, of course, would be the most effective. Why shouldn't we imprison them--be our own jailers?"

Macloud threw away his cigarette and lit another before he replied, then he shook his head.

"Too much risk to ourselves," he said. "Somebody would likely be killed in the operation, with the chances strongly favoring ourselves. I'd rather shoot them down from ambush, at once."

"That may require an explanation to a judge and jury, which would be a trifle inconvenient. I'd prefer to risk my life in a fight. Then, if it came to court, our reputation is good, while theirs is in the rogues' gallery."

"Where would you imprison them?" asked Macloud, dubiously.

"That is the difficulty, I admit. Think over it, while we're going to Washington and back; see if you can't find a way out. Either we must jug them, securely, for a week or two, or we must arrest them. On the whole, it might be wiser to let them go free--let them make a try for the treasure, unmolested. When they fail and retire, we can begin."

"Your last alternative doesn't sound particularly attractive to me--or to you, either, I fancy."

"This isn't going to be a particularly attractive quest, if we want to succeed," said Croyden. "Pirate's gold breeds pirate's ways, I reckon--blood and violence and sudden death. We'll try to play it without death, however, if our opponents will permit. Such title, as exists to Parmenter's hoard, is in me, and I am not minded to relinquish it without a struggle. I wasn't especially keen at the start, but I'm keen enough, now--and I don't propose to be blocked by two rogues, if there is a way out."

"And the way out, according to your notion, is to be our own jailers, think you?" said Macloud. "Well, we can chew on it--the manner of procedure is apt to keep us occupied a few hours."

They took the next train, on the Electric Line, to Washington, Macloud having telephoned ahead and made an appointment with Senator Rickrose--whom, luckily, they found at the Capital--to meet them at the Metropolitan Club for luncheon. At Fourteenth Street, they changed to a Connecticut Avenue car, and, dismounting at Seventeenth and dodging a couple of automobiles, entered the Pompeian brick and granite building, the home of the Club which has the most representative membership in the country.

Macloud was on the non-resident list, and the door-man, with the memory for faces which comes from long practice, greeted him, instantly, by name, though he had not seen him for months.

"Yes, Mr. Macloud, Senator Rickrose just came in," he said.

They met the Senator in the Red Room. He was very tall, with a tendency to corpulency, which, however, was lost in his great height; very dignified, and, for one of his service, very young--of immense influence in the councils of his party, and the absolute dictator in his own State. Inheriting a superb machine from a "matchless leader,"--who died in the harness--he had developed it into a well nigh perfect organization for political control. All power was in his hands, from the lowest to the highest, he ruled with a sway as absolute as a despot. His word was the ultimate law--from it an appeal did not lie.

"How are you, old fellow?" he said to Macloud, dropping a hand on his shoulder. "I haven't seen you for a long time--and, Mr. Croyden, I think I have met you in Northumberland. I'm glad, indeed, to see you both." He touched a bell. "Take the orders!" he said, to the boy.

"Senator!" said Macloud, a little later, when they had finished luncheon. "I want to ask a slight favor--not political however--so it won't have to be endorsed by the organization."

The Senator laughed. "In that event, it is granted before you ask. What is it I can do?"

"Have the Secretary of the Navy issue us a permit to camp on Greenberry Point."

"Where the devil is Greenberry Point?" said Rickrose.

"Across the Severn River from Annapolis."

Rickrose turned in his chair and glanced over the dining-room. Then he raised his hand to the head waiter.

"Has the Secretary of the Navy had luncheon?" he asked.

"Yes, sir--before you came in."

The Senator nodded.

"We would better go over to the Department, at once, or we shall miss him," he said. "Chevy Chase is the drawing card, in the afternoon."

The reception hour was long passed, but the Secretary was in and would see Senator Rickrose. He came forward to meet him--a tall, middle-aged, well-groomed man, with sandy hair, whose principal recommendation for the post he filled was the fact that he was the largest contributor to the campaign fund in his State, and his senior senator needed him in his business, and had refrigerated him into the Cabinet for safe keeping--that being the only job which insured him from being a candidate for the Senator's own seat. It is a great game, is politics!

"Mr. Secretary!" said Rickrose, "my friends want a permit to camp for two weeks on Greenberry Point."

"Greenbury Point!" said the Secretary, vaguely--"that's somewhere out in San Francisco harbor?"

"Not the Greenberry Point they mean," the Senator replied. "It's down at Annapolis--across the Severn from the Naval Academy, and forms part of that command, I presume. It is waste land, unfortified and wind swept."