"Mr. Marrineal isn't an avowed candidate, is he?" evaded Banneker. "I fancy that you'll see some rapidly evolving activity in that quarter." "Is it true that Laird has developed social tendencies, and is using the mayoralty to climb?" "A silly story of his enemies," answered Enderby contemptuously. "Just the sort of thing that Marrineal would naturally get hold of and use. In so far as Laird has any social relations, they are and always have been with that element which your society reporters call 'the most exclusive circles,' because that is where he belongs by birth and association." "Russell Edmonds says that social ambition is the only road on which one climbs painfully downhill." The other paid the tribute of a controlled smile to this. "Edmonds? A Socialist. He has a gnarled mind. Good, hard-grained wood, though. I suppose no man more thoroughly hates and despises what I represent--or what he thinks I represent, the conservative force of moneyed power--than he does. Yet in any question of professional principles, I would trust him far; yes, and of professional perceptions, too, I think; which is more difficult. A crack-brained sage; but wise. Have you talked over the Laird matter with him?" "Yes. He's for Laird." "Stick to Edmonds, Banneker. You can't find a better guide." There was desultory talk until the caller got up to go. As they shook hands, Enderby said: "Has any one been tracking you lately?" "No. Not that I've noticed." "There was a fellow lurking suspiciously outside; heavy-set, dark clothes, soft hat. I thought that he might be watching you." For a man of Banneker's experience of the open, to detect the cleverest of trailing was easy. Although this watcher was sly and careful in his pursuit, which took him all the way to Chelsea Village, his every move was clear to the quarry, until the door of The House With Three Eyes closed upon its owner. Banneker went to bed very uneasy. On whose behoof was he being shadowed? Should he warn Io?... In the morning there was no trace of the man, nor, though Banneker trained every sharpened faculty to watchfulness, did he see him again.... While he was mentally engrossed in wholly alien considerations, the solution materialized out of nothing to his inner vision. It was Willis Enderby who was being watched, and, as a side issue, any caller upon him. That evening a taxi, occupied by a leisurely young man in evening clothes, drove through East 68th Street, where stood the Enderby house, dim, proud, and stiff. The taxi stopped before a mansion not far away, and the young man addressed a heavy-bodied individual who stood, with vacant face uplifted to the high moon, as if about to bay it. Said the young man: "Mr. Ives wishes you to report to him at once." "Huh?" ejaculated the other, lowering his gaze. "At the usual place," pursued the young man. "Oh! Aw-right."