Produced by David Moynihan, Charles Franks and the Distributed Proofreading Team. IN SECRET by ROBERT W. CHAMBERS AUTHOR OF "THE COMMON LAW," "THE RECKONING," "LORRAINE," ETC. NEW YORK DEDICATION A grateful nation's thanks are due To Arethusa and to you--- To her who dauntless at your side Pneumonia and Flue defied With phials of formaldehyde! II Chief of Police were you, by gosh! Gol ding it! how you bumped the Boche! Handed 'em one with club and gun Until the Hun was on the run: And that's the way the war was won. III Easthampton's pride! My homage take For Fairest Philadelphia's sake. Retire in company with Bill; Rest by the Racquet's window sill And, undisturbed, consume your pill. ENVOI When Cousin Feenix started west And landed east, he did his best; And so I've done my prettiest To make this rhyme long overdue; For Arethusa and for you. R. W. C. IN SECRET CHAPTER I CUP AND LIP The case in question concerned a letter in a yellow envelope, which was dumped along with other incoming mail upon one of the many long tables where hundreds of women and scores of men sat opening and reading thousands of letters for the Bureau of P. C.--whatever that may mean. In due course of routine a girl picked up and slit open the yellow envelope, studied the enclosed letter for a few moments, returned it to its envelope, wrote a few words on a slip of paper, attached the slip to the yellow envelope, and passed it along to the D. A. C.--whoever he or she may be. The D. A. C., in course of time, opened this letter for the second time, inspected it, returned it to the envelope, added a memorandum, and sent it on up to the A. C.--whatever A. C. may signify. Seated at his desk, the A. C. perused the memoranda, glanced over the letter and the attached memoranda, added his terse comment to the other slips, pinned them to the envelope, and routed it through certain channels which ultimately carried the letter into a room where six silent and preoccupied people sat busy at six separate tables. Fate had taken charge of that yellow envelope from the moment it was mailed in Mexico; Chance now laid it on a yellow oak table before a yellow-haired girl; Destiny squinted over her shoulder as she drew the letter from its triply violated envelope and spread it out on the table before her. A rich, warm flush mounted to her cheeks as she examined the document. Her chance to distinguish herself had arrived at last. She divined it instantly. She did not doubt it. She was a remarkable girl. The room remained very still. The five other cipher experts of the P. I. Service were huddled over their tables, pencil in hand, absorbed in their several ungodly complications and laborious calculations. But they possessed no Rosetta Stone to aid them in deciphering hieroglyphics; toad-like, they carried the precious stone in their heads, M. D.!