"Well--I'm rather busy--unless it is important--hum--hum!--in line of duty, you know--" "You may judge. I'm going to try to secure that code-book to-night." "Oh! Have you called in the--" "No!" "Haven't you communicated with--" "No!" "Why not?" "Because there's too much confusion already--too much petty jealousy and working at cross-purposes. I have been thinking over the entire problem. You yourself know how many people have escaped through jealous or over-zealous officers making premature arrests. We have six different secret-service agencies, each independent of the other and each responsible to its own independent chief, all operating for the Government in New York City. You know what these agencies are--the United States Secret Service, the Department of Justice Bureau of Investigation, the Army Intelligence Service, Naval Intelligence Service, Neutrality Squads of the Customs, and the Postal Inspection. Then there's the State Service and the police and several other services. And there is no proper co-ordination, no single head for all these agencies. The result is a ghastly confusion and shameful inefficiency. "This affair which I am investigating is a delicate one, as you know. Any blundering might lose us the key to what may be a very dangerous conspiracy. So I prefer to operate entirely within the jurisdiction of our own Service--" "What you propose to do is OUTSIDE of our province!" he interrupted. "I'm not so sure. Are you?" "Well--hum--hum!--what is it you propose to do to-night?" "I should like to consult my Chief of Division." "Meaning me?" "Of course." "When?" "Now!" "Where are you just now, Miss Erith?" "At home. Could you come to me?" Vaux shivered again. "Where d-do you live?" he asked, with chattering teeth. She gave him the number of a private house on 83d Street just off Madison Avenue. And as he listened he began to shiver all over in the anticipated service of his country. "Very well," he said, "I'll take a taxi. But this has Valley Forge stung to death, you know." She said: "I took the liberty of sending my car to the Racquet Club for you. It should be there now. There's a foot-warmer in it." "Thank you so much," he replied with a burst of shivers. "I'll b-b-be right up." As he left the telephone the doorman informed him that an automobile was waiting for him. So, swearing under his frosty breath, he went to the cloak-room, got into his fur coat, walked back to the card-room and gazed wrathfully upon the festivities. "What did my hand do, Bill?" he inquired glumly, when at last the scorer picked up his pad and the dealer politely shoved the pack toward his neighbour for cutting. "You ruined me with your four silly hearts," replied the man who had taken his cards. "Did you think you were playing coon-can?" "Sorry, Bill. Sit in for me, there's a good chap. I'm not likely to be back to-night--hang it!"