He had been in the capital often, and had no difficulty in finding his
way to the capitol building. It was at the intersection of two wide
streets--a broad, spacious structure of white stone, standing in the
center of a well-kept grass plot. It was imposing, hinting of the
greatness of the state that had erected it, suggesting broadness of
vision and simple majesty.
The state was not at fault, Lawler reflected as he mounted the broad
stone stairs that led upward to the interior of the building; the state
was founded upon principles that were fundamentally just; and the wisdom
of the people, their resources, their lives, were back of it all. This
building was an expression of the desire of the people; it represented
them; it was the citadel of government from which came the laws to which
they bowed; it was the visible arm of power.
Lawler crossed the big rotunda, where the light was subdued; and walked
down a wide corridor, pausing before a door on which was the legend:
"State Railroad Commissioner." A few minutes later, after having given
his name to an attendant, he was standing in a big, well-lighted and
luxuriously furnished room--hat in hand, looking at a tall, slender man
who was seated in a swivel chair at a big, flat-top desk.
The man was older than Lawler, much older.
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