[Illustration: Before she could reply, the express train roared above them _Page 151_] THE BEST MAN BY GRACE LIVINGSTON HILL LUTZ AUTHOR OF VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS, ETC. FRONTISPIECE IN COLOR BY GAYLE HOSKINS [Illustration] GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS NEW YORK Made in the United States of America COPYRIGHT, 1913. BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY COPYRIGHT, 1914. BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY PUBLISHED JANUARY, 1914 The Best Man SIXTH EDITION THE BEST MAN CHAPTER I Cyril Gordon had been seated at his desk but ten minutes and was deep in the morning’s mail when there came an urgent message from his chief, summoning him to an immediate audience in the inner office. The chief had keen blue eyes and shaggy eyebrows. He never wasted words; yet those words when spoken had more weight than those of most other men in Washington. There was the briefest of good-morning gleams in his nod and glance, but he only said: “Gordon, can you take the Pennsylvania train for New York that leaves the station in thirty-two minutes?” The young man was used to abrupt questions from his chief, but he caught his breath, mentally surveying his day as it had been planned: “Why, sir, I suppose I could--if it is necessary----” He hesitated. “It is necessary,” said the chief curtly, as if that settled the matter. “But--half an hour!” ejaculated Gordon in dismay. “I could hardly get to my rooms and back to the station. I don’t see how---- Isn’t there a train a little later?” “Later train won’t do. Call up your man on the ’phone. Tell him to pack your bag and meet you at the station in twenty minutes. You’ll need evening clothes. Can you depend on your man to get your things quickly without fail?” There was that in the tone of the chief that caused Gordon to make no further demur. “Sure!” he responded with his usual business-like tone, as he strode to the ’phone. His daze was passing off. “Evening clothes?” he questioned curiously, as if he might not have heard aright. “Yes, evening clothes,” was the curt answer, “and everything you’ll need for daytime for a respectable gentleman of leisure--a tourist, you understand.” Gordon perceived that he was being given a mission of trust and importance, not unmixed with mystery perhaps. He was new in the secret service, and it had been his ambition to rise in his chief’s good graces. He rang the telephone bell furiously and called up the number of his own apartments, giving his man orders in a breezy, decisive tone that caused a look of satisfaction to settle about the fine wrinkles of the chief’s eyes.