What little things sometimes change a lifetime, and make for our safety or our destruction! That very morning three keen watchers were set to guard that station at Washington to hunt out the government spy who had stolen back the stolen message, and take him, message and all, dead or alive, back to New York; for the man who could testify against the Holman Combination was not to be let live if there was such a thing as getting him out of the way. But they never thought to watch the Special which was supposed to carry only delegates to the great convention. He could not possibly be on that! They knew he was coming from Pittsburgh, for they had been so advised by telegram the evening before by one of their company who had seen him buying a sleeper ticket for Washington, but they felt safe about that Special, for they had made inquiries and been told no one but delegates could possibly come on it. They had done their work thoroughly, and were on hand with every possible plan perfected for bagging their game, but they took the time when the Pittsburgh Special was expected to arrive for eating a hearty breakfast in the restaurant across the street from the station. Two of them emerged from the restaurant doorway in plenty of time to meet the next Pittsburgh train, just as Gordon, having placed the lady in a closed carriage, was getting in himself. If the carriage had stood in any other spot along the pavement in front of the station, they never would have seen him, but, as it was, they had a full view of him; and because they were Washington men, and experts in their line, they recognized him at once, and knew their plans had failed, and that only by extreme measures could they hope to prevent the delivery of the message which would mean downfall and disaster to them and their schemes. As Gordon slammed shut the door of the carriage, he caught a vision of his two enemies pointing excitedly toward him, and he knew that the bloodhounds were on the scent. His heart beat wildly. His anxiety was divided between the message and the lady. What should he do? Drive at once to the home of his chief and deliver the message, or leave the girl at his rooms, ’phone for a faster conveyance and trust to getting to his chief ahead of his pursuers? “Don’t let anything hinder you! Don’t let anything hinder you! Make it a matter of life and death!” rang the little ditty in his ears, and now it seemed as if he must go straight ahead with the message. And yet--“a matter of life and death!” He could not, must not, might not, take the lady with him into danger. If he must be in danger of death he did not want to die having exposed an innocent stranger to the same. Then there was another point to be thought of.