“But I—I don’t know. I never had any experience in——” “Perfectly easy to manage. This young butler I speak of is booked with a first-class employment agency on Forty-fifth Street.” “New York?” “Yes, West Forty-fifth. You can write them to send him over. Fellow’s name is Dreek—James Dreek—and if he isn’t out on a job they’ll put him on the next train.” (Pentecost very well knew “James Dreek” wasn’t out on any job, though not from the employment agency, with which concern he’d been more than careful never to have any dealings whatever.) “Dreek can manage the whole place for you—see that our side of it is protected at the same time.” He got out a pocketbook and took a card from it. “Here we are; this is the agency.” “But I——What shall to say to this—this agency?” “Here, I’ll do it for you and you can sign it. Got a machine here? Typewriter?” Haworth shook his head. “Oh well, wait. Sign your name at the bottom of a blank sheet and I’ll type a letter in above it when I get back to the hotel.” For some reason Haworth trusted this man implicitly, and after writing his name at the bottom of a blank sheet, held it out to him. But Pentecost didn’t take it. “Haven’t you got a large envelope or something I can put it in?” he asked. “Just to keep it clean till I get to the hotel?” “I’m afraid not,” said Haworth, looking about on the table. “Couldn’t you slip it into that large flat book there?” “Why no! that’s my——Oh!” He seemed to recollect something and opened the book, which was an illustrated catalogue of machinists’ tools, and placed the sheet of paper on which he’d written, between the leaves. “Shove an envelope with it, there’s a good fellow. The kind you use for letters.” Haworth did this and passed the book to Pentecost, who thus got the stationery he wanted without touching it himself or having anyone else touch it after it left Haworth’s hands. Pentecost said, as he and the two Harkers were preparing to go: “Keep it from the old lady that Dreek comes here on our recommendation.” “I will,” said Haworth. “We’re coming back in ten days—expiration of option you know—and can take delivery at that time if the machine’s ready by then.” “It’s ready now.” Pentecost looked at him with a peculiar glint in his droop-lidded eyes. “Then you plan to make delivery on that date?” he asked. “My God, yes! if I’ve got to wait that long!” Pentecost regarded the young man absently for an instant, then, with the Harkers, turned away, and the three went down the steps to the waiting taxi. * * * * *