"All right, Colonel," and Baker departed. By the time they had reached dessert, the grill room was deserted. Goddard lighted a cigar, and, lounging back in his chair, contemplated his host with keen interest. "I can't understand it, Lloyd," he said finally. "Understand what?" replied Lloyd, roused from his abstraction. "Why you became a professional detective. With your social position, talents..." "That's just it!" "What?" "My talents. If it had not been for them, I would have gone to West Point with you, Bob. But, above all else in the world I enjoy pitting my wits against another's--enjoy unravelling mysteries that baffle others. To me there is no excitement equal to a man hunt. I suppose in a way it is an inheritance; my father was a great criminal lawyer, and his father before him. When Pinkerton organized the Secret Service division of the army in '61, I went with him, thinking I could follow my chosen profession and serve my country at the same time. Besides," with a trace of bitterness in his voice, "I owe society nothing; nor do I desire to associate with society people." Goddard gazed sorrowfully at his friend. "Hasn't the old wound healed, Lloyd?" he asked softly. "No; nor ever will," was the brief response, and Lloyd's face grew stern with the pain of other years. "As I told you, Bob, I was detailed here to solve a very serious problem for our government," he resumed, after a slight pause. "Baker has rounded up and arrested all persons suspected of corresponding with the rebels, and sent some to Old Capitol Prison, and others through the lines to Richmond, where they can do us no harm. Most of these spies gave themselves away by their secesh talk, or by boasting of their ability to run the blockade. "But information of our armies' intended movements is still being carried out of Washington right under Baker's nose. It is imperative that this leak be stopped at once, or the Union forces may suffer another Bull Run. Baker and the provost marshal of the district have tried every means in their power to learn the methods and the identity of this spy, but so far without success." "But have you found no trace in your search?" inquired Goddard eagerly. "Until to-day I had only a theory; now I have a clue, a faint one, but----" Lloyd paused and glanced about the room to see that he was not overheard. They had the place to themselves, save for their waiter, Sam, who was busy resetting a table in the opposite corner. "I have told you, Bob, how I came to get this wound"--Lloyd touched his temple--"when on my way to Poolesville." Goddard nodded assent. "But I did not tell you that before the supposed trooper made good his escape his hat was knocked off and Symonds saw that the spy was a woman." "A woman!" Goddard nearly dropped his cigar in his astonishment. "How did he find that out?" "Her hair fell down her back when her hat was knocked off." Goddard stared at his companion. "Well, I'll be--blessed!" he muttered.