Deliberately he laid a heavy silver spoon across one edge of the paper on the table, and an icecream fork across the other, as if to hold it in place until his return. Then, rising with apologies, he gathered his napkin, paper, and all in his hand, holding it against his coat most naturally, as if he had forgotten that he had it, and made his way into the front hall, where in an alcove was the telephone. As he passed the hat-rack he swept his coat and hat off with his free hand, and bore them with him, devoutly hoping that he was not being watched from the dining-room. Could he possibly get from the telephone out the front door without being seen? Hastily he hid the cipher message in an inner pocket. The napkin he dropped on the little telephone table, and taking up the receiver he spoke: “Hello! Yes! Oh, good evening! You don’t say so! How did that happen?” He made his voice purposely clear, that it might be heard in the dining-room if anyone was listening. Then glancing in that direction he saw, to his horror, his host lean over and lift the cipher paper he had left on the table and hand it to the guest on his right. The messenger at the other end had given his sentence agreed upon and he had replied according to the sentences laid down by the chief in his instructions; the other end had said good-by and hung up, but Gordon’s voice spoke, cool and clear in the little alcove, despite his excitement. “All right. Certainly, I can take time to write it down. Wait until I get my pencil. Now, I’m ready. Have you it there? I’ll wait a minute until you get it.” His heart beat wildly. The blood surged through his ears like rushing waters. Would they look for the little red mark? The soft clink of spoons and dishes and the murmur of conversation was still going on, but there was no doubt but that it was a matter of a few seconds before his theft would be discovered. He must make an instant dash for liberty while he yet could. Cautiously, stealthily, like a shadow from the alcove, one eye on the dining-room, he stole to the door and turned the knob. Yet even as he did so he saw his recent host rise excitedly from his seat and fairly snatch the paper from the man who held it. His last glimpse of the room where he had but three minutes before been enjoying the hospitality of the house was a vision of the entire company starting up and pointing to himself even as he slid from sight. There was no longer need for silence. He had been discovered and must fight for his life. He shut the door quickly, his nerves so tense that it seemed as if something must break soon; opened and slammed the outer door, and was out in the great whirling city under the flare of electric lamps with only the chance of a second of time before his pursuers would be upon him. He came down the steps with the air of one who could scarcely take time to touch his feet to the ground, but must fly. CHAPTER III