“All right, Mr. Haines; my hands are up.  Do your worst.  Senator Stevens spoke to me about you; said you were the smartest young newspaper man in Washington.  You must come from the South.”

Bud shook his head.

“No, just New York,” he said.

“Well, that’s a promising town,” drawled the Southerner.  “They tell me that’s the Vicksburg of the North.”

“I suppose you haven’t been to New York of late, Senator?” suggested the newspaper man.

“Well, I started up there with General Lee once,” responded Langdon reminiscently, “but we changed our minds and came back.  You may have heard about that trip.”

Haines admitted that he had.

“Since that time,” went on Langdon, “I’ve confined my travels to New Orleans and Vicksburg.  Ever been in New Orleans about Mardi Gras time, Mr. Haines?”

“Sorry, but I don’t believe I have,” confessed the reporter reluctantly.

The Senator seemed surprised.

“Well, sir, you have something to live for.  I’ll make it my special business to personally conduct you through one Mardi Gras, with a special understanding, of course, that you don’t print anything in the paper.  I’m a vestryman in my church, but since misfortune has come upon our State I have to be careful.”

Haines searched his brain.  He knew of no grave calamity that had happened recently in Mississippi.

“Misfortune?” he questioned.

Senator Langdon nodded.

[Illustration:  “From new York, eh?  The Vicksburg of the North,”]

“Yes, sir, the great old State of Mississippi went prohibition at the last election.  I don’t know how it happened.  We haven’t found anybody in the State that says he voted for it, but the fact is a fact.  I assure you, Mr. Haines, that prohibition stops at my front door, in Mississippi.  So I’ve been living a quiet life down on my plantation.”

“This new life will be a great change for you, then?” suggested the reporter.

“Change!  It’s revolutionary, sir!  When you’ve expected to spend your old days peacefully in the country, Mr. Haines, suddenly to find that your State has called on you—­”

A flavor of sarcasm came into Haines’ reply.

“The office seeking the man?” He could not help the slight sneer.  Was a man never to admit that he had sought the office?  Haines knew only too well of the arduous work necessary to secure nominations for high office in conventions and to win an election to the Senate from a State Legislature.  In almost every case, he knew, the candidate must make a dozen different “deals” to secure votes, might promise the same office to two or three different leaders, force others into line by threats, send a trusted agent to another with a roll of bank bills—­the recipient of which would immediately conclude that this candidate was the only man in the