Doak followed him through a high musty living room into a small room
off this. There was a small hynrane heater in here, and the room was
stifling.
Senator Arnold sat in a wheel chair, his feet elevated. He wore a
greasy muffler around his thin neck and a heavy reefer buttoned all
the way up.
The fat man left, closing the door behind him. Arnold looked Doak over
from head to feet and came back up. "It's about time. Your
credentials?"
Doak handed over his wallet. There was, he saw, no chair in the room.
Evidently, he was supposed to stand through the interview.
The old man handed the wallet back. "The place is right up that road
to the south. First house, only house in sight."
Doak put his wallet in his pocket. "Just what kind of business do you
think is going on up there, Senator?"