No one arose as Mr. Blithers entered the room and
stopped just inside the door. He heard it close gently behind him. He
was at a loss for the first time in his life. He didn't know whether
he was to stop just inside the door fingering his hat like a
messenger boy, or go forward and join the group. His gaze fell upon a
huge oaken chair at the far end of the table. It was the only
unoccupied seat that came within the scope of his rather limited
vision. He could not see anything beyond the table and the impassive
group that surrounded it. Was it possible that the big chair was
intended for him? If so, how small and insignificant he would look
upon it. He had a ghastly notion that his feet would not touch the
floor, and he went so far as to venture the hope that there would be
a substantial round somewhere about midway from the bottom.
He had appeared before the inquisitorial committees in the United
States Senate, and had not been oppressed by the ponderous gravity of
the investigation. He had faced the Senators without a tremor of awe.
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