the eyes and ears of his agent.

The place was a large high-ceilinged room, its architecture
suggesting some public building. In the center, and directly in
front of Van Emmon's agent, stood a large, rectangular table, about
which sat a number of men. Van Emmon counted nine of them.

The whole atmosphere was solemn and important. Van Emmon was
reminded of old photographs of cabinet meetings in Washington, of
strategy boards during the great war. He listened intently for
something to be said.

Near the foot of the table--Van Emmon's agent sat at the head--a
tall man with an imposing, square-cut beard rose to his feet. He
gazed at each of the other eight in turn, significantly; and when he
spoke the geologist was so impressed with the deadly seriousness of
the scene that he forgot to be amazed at his ability to understand
what was said, forgot to marvel that these men were, undeniably,
human beings of exceptional character.

"Gentlemen," said the man who had risen, "I do not need to remind
you of the seriousness of this occasion. I only wish to congratulate
you, and myself, on the fact that we now have a chairman to whom we
can look with confidence. I say this without meaning any reflection
upon his predecessor."

He sat down, and immediately a white-haired man with a wide,
complacent type of face arose and declared: "No reflection is felt,
sir. On the contrary, I am exceedingly glad that Mr. Powart is to
take my place. I only wish that the commission felt free to discard