With that I rang, and was admitted by a negress. It wasn’t another minute before I was ushered into the chief’s den. He was pacing up and down, puffing violently at a fat cigar. From his first word, I knew him well enough to know that he was anything but displeased at my showing up. “Well, Grey,” he grumbled, “what’s the lay now?” Five hours before I would have snapped back a sharp retort and seen him to the deuce, but things glowed different now. “Why, chief,” I replied, with a laugh, “I just came back because I think you’ll want me now. You see, I’ve sworn off--losing my temper.” He stopped short before me and shot me a glance. “You mean it?” said he. “Because if you do,” he went on, “I believe you. The one thing that has always struck me about your past offenses is--that you never have promised to do better in the future. And, strange as it may seem,” he chuckled, “that’s the very reason I put up with you so long.” “Well, I mean it now,” said I simply. My tone must have carried complete conviction, for his manner abruptly changed. “Sit down,” said he suddenly, and we faced each other over his broad, flat-top desk. “It just happens at this moment that I do need you, Grey; and need you pretty bad, too; for I’ve just been put in line with a thing that already got beyond Pawlinson, of Washington.” “Yes?” said I, catching fire at the interest. “The affair was important enough to warrant Pawlinson taking the trail himself; and it certainly has led him a pretty dance during the two days he’s been at it.” I had never met Pawlinson personally, but his position among us was the byword of efficiency. I glowed to the compliment the chief was indirectly paying me. “What’s the exact nature of the case?” said I. “That’s just it,” muttered Garth disgustedly. “What we’ve got to go on is the slimmest ever. Pawlinson’s so cursed secretive that he hasn’t even let out what the fellow’s wanted for. “Fact is, Pawlinson was here; just this moment gone. You must have passed him coming in. But for all he’s been pretty definitely shaken off the trail, he won’t let out but this much: “A man answering this description”--here the chief tossed me the usual paper of height, color of hair, et cetera--“arrived off quarantine aboard the _Benzobia_ yesterday at daylight. Pawlinson had one of his men waiting for him when the vessel docked; but in some outlandish way the chap managed to get the skipper to let him go over the side and into a gasoline launch that hove alongside while they were slowing down just abreast of Liberty. “Now Pawlinson gets kind of hazy as to just what happened directly after that,” continued the chief; “nor does he give me any particulars as to how he ever managed to get a berth as engineer of the little launch. But how he lost the job he told me fully enough; and he sprinkled the narrative with plenty of cuss words. It seems that while the launch was waiting for the fellow at the town dock of Port Washington, Long Island, that----”