"Time is flying," said the President in his gayest manner, after
glancing at his watch, which like everything about him seemed
bigger than it ought to be. "I must go off at once; I have to
take the chair at a Humanitarian meeting."
The Secretary turned to him with working eyebrows.
"Would it not be better," he said a little sharply, "to discuss
further the details of our project, now that the spy has left us?"
"No, I think not," said the President with a yawn like an
unobtrusive earthquake. "Leave it as it is. Let Saturday settle
it. I must be off. Breakfast here next Sunday."
But the late loud scenes had whipped up the almost naked nerves
of the Secretary. He was one of those men who are conscientious
even in crime.
"I must protest, President, that the thing is irregular," he said.
"It is a fundamental rule of our society that all plans shall be
debated in full council. Of course, I fully appreciate your
forethought when in the actual presence of a traitor--"
"Secretary," said the President seriously, "if you'd take your head
home and boil it for a turnip it might be useful. I can't say. But
it might.
The Secretary reared back in a kind of equine anger.
"I really fail to understand--" he began in high offense.
"That's it, that's it," said the President, nodding a great many
times. "That's where you fail right enough. You fail to understand.
Why, you dancing donkey," he roared, rising, "you didn't want to be
overheard by a spy, didn't you? How do you know you aren't
overheard now?"
And with these words he shouldered his way out of the room, shaking
with incomprehensible scorn.
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