In the venerable old mansion in which he lived Senator Fitzhugh kept one servant, a man who had been with him for many years to look after his various needs. Beyond that he lived by himself and, despite his former prominence in the Senate, he had received few invitations since the nation had fallen and the number of visitors who came to see him had dwindled until he found himself alone a great deal of the time. And the more he was by himself, the more acutely it came to him that at a time when he should have been in his prime, his life was closing in around him, as though he was sliding down the inside of some gigantic funnel.
He was surprised, therefore, when he heard his doorbell ring at a few minutes after eight in the evening. He was expecting no one, and even the diversion of the mystery story he was attempting to read had not revived his sunken mood. Presently his man came into the room. “There is a lady to see you, senator,” he said.
“Who?”
“Mrs. Robert Smith.”
“I don’t believe that I know her; what does she want?”
“I couldn’t say, sir, but she did indicate that you would wish to see her and that it might be to your advantage to do so.”
“I see. What sort of a person is she?”
“Very much of a lady, sir, I would say.”
“In that case show her in.”
The woman who came into the room was of uncertain age; the senator guessed at forty, but she could have been somewhat less or perhaps quite a bit more. Her grooming was subdued but perfectly executed. The suit that she wore had the simplicity that bespoke both taste and quality. She was decidedly attractive; the senator was reminded of Greer Garson when he had first seen her in Goodbye, Mr. Chips. He rose to his feet.
“Good evening, Mrs. Smith,” he welcomed her, “please sit down. What may I offer you?”
“Thank you, senator, it isn’t necessary to trouble yourself.”
“No trouble at all, what is your preference?”
“Suppose we talk first.”
“As you wish, Mrs. Smith.”
When they were alone she began the conversation. “First of all, senator, I must apologize to you for coming at this hour without an appointment. There were well-considered reasons why I could not make one.”
“Are you selling something, Mrs. Smith?”
“No, I am not.”
The senator was at a loss; he could think of no reason why this woman had come to see him. Her refinement was obvious, but he was nevertheless slightly disturbed.
“Today, senator, I believe some workmen were on your property.” “Yes, there were some people from the electric company. This is an old house and they were concerned about the wiring.” He paused. “Mrs. Smith, I don’t want to sound old-fashioned in this day and age, but I don’t want to expose you to the risk that your visit to my home might be misinterpreted.”
“I most sincerely hope that it is,” she answered him. “If anyone is sufficiently interested, I would much prefer him to have that belief; it would probably satisfy him.”
That was not the answer the senator had expected. “You mean — the occupying forces?”
“Senator, the men who were in your home today were not here to examine the wiring; they were a security detail. Their real purpose was to make sure that no listening devices had been installed.”
“In preparation for your visit?”
“Yes.”
The senator stirred himself. “Mrs. Smith, are you sure that you wouldn’t care for some refreshment?”
“Tea, then, if it’s convenient.”
The senator left the room long enough to place the order. When he returned he was cautious and serious. “Now, Mrs. Smith, please tell me what I can do for you.”
“Very well, senator, I shall. It has come to me through roundabout channels that following the tragic death of your son you wanted to know if there was such a thing as an American underground, and if Gary had belonged to it.”
“Yes,” Fitzhugh said, “that’s correct.”
“From this point forward our conversation must be totally confidential. I am aware of your sworn obligation to protect the national security.”
“You may absolutely rely on it, madam.”
“I am doing so, senator. The answer to your question is that there is an active and powerful American underground. It is very well organized and equipped. It was established some time ago under the previous administration when the President foresaw the possibility of what has since taken place.”
“But I knew nothing of this!”
Mrs. Smith leaned back in her comfortable chair and carefully crossed her legs without display. “At that time, senator, some careful steps were taken to see that you did not hear of it. It was kept secret from all but a very few people who were directly concerned.” “But they did not hesitate to recruit my son,” he said bitterly.
Mrs. Smith looked at him. “I understand your distress, senator, and I sincerely sympathize with it. Gary did become a member, because for some time he had been going with Sally Bloom and she was a very patriotic young woman.”
“But what could a group of undergraduate students hope to do?” “Principally, senator, they were to serve as a listening post; institutions of higher learning have been under attack for some time.”
Fitzhugh passed a hand across his face. “Yes, I know that.” He thought some more and then framed a question. “Mrs. Smith, I take it that you are acquainted with Mr. Hewlitt?”
She shook her head. “I’ve never met him, senator, and I’m certain that he’s not aware that I exist.”
“I see, I thought perhaps…”
“Mr. Hewlitt is extremely cautious and discreet, senator, but I am aware that you had a conversation with him a short while ago and my call on you this evening is related to that.”
“I am reassured.”
“Senator, I have some news if you would care to hear it.”
“By all means.”
“One of the reasons why I am being so candid with you in telling you about the underground is because our enemies have already found out.”
Senator Fitzhugh leaned forward. “You mean that they are now in a position to destroy it?”
Mrs. Smith smiled. “No, senator, on the contrary — they know only for sure that it exists. I believe that at one time you opposed the construction of the Ramon Magsaysay and the series that was to follow her.”
The memory came back. “It was an extremely provocative appropriation at the time — that was my position.”
“Your position, senator, is quite well known. I don’t wish to be cruel, but I am forced to say that I consider the death of those eight students very provocative also.”
Despite himself sweat broke out on the brow of Senator Fitzhugh. He was a proud man and the tenets to which he had clung for so long refused to loosen their grip on him. “I was defeated,” he said, “they built the submarine anyway.”
Mrs. Smith was about to speak when the door opened and the senator’s man brought in the tea. He served them and then withdrew. Not until he had been gone several seconds did the conversation resume; then it was Mrs. Smith who spoke.
“Senator, yesterday, very early in the morning, the underground succeeded in putting a fully qualified Navy crew on board that ship, getting her away from the enemy, out of the Golden Gate, and into the Pacific. The submarine is out there now, fully armed, and under American control.”
The senator jerked forward. “Good God!” he said. “This is terrible. To provoke them like that, at a time like this — it’s a disaster.”
His guest’s manner hardened. “Senator, you seem to be constantly concerned with what our enemies think of us. I could name the man who is directing their entire campaign, and I can assure you that he is not to be appeased. He is a ruthless murderer; it was on his direct orders that your son Gary was slaughtered, and all of those who died with him. Are you still trying to win his goodwill?” Fitzhugh felt literally ill. “No,” he said, “of course not.”