"Followed—I don’t understand." "I began to suspect something the moment I came to London. Well, I put my suspicions to the test yesterday. Before going out I folded a pair of trousers in a very particular way and left them on a chair. When I came back they had been refolded in a slightly different way." "Did you question your landlady?" "Yes. Naturally she denied that any stranger had entered, but her confusion was obvious. I quickly suggested that my tailor might have called, and she as quickly agreed that this was so. When, an hour later, I interviewed the tailor and he confirmed me in my belief that he had not been near the house, the inference was clear. I was being watched. And, mark you, Smilo, I have reason to believe that the watcher is one of our own colleagues." "Lord, no!" "Judging from the awkward way the pockets were crumpled in the act of refolding the trousers, I have further reason to believe that the watcher is a woman." "Impossible!" "Nothing is impossible in this best of impossible worlds." "It’s a low-down shame, Mr. Pryor. But, after all, it can’t hurt you. ’Sticks and stones may break my bones, etc.’ You know the saying." "My dear boy, being a detective you can’t begin to realize that the knowledge that you are being carefully watched gives you a very jumpy feeling—especially when you know you’re guilty." "In heaven’s name, guilty of what?" "Of doing a good job in your own line; in my case, tracking down criminals." "Surely you don’t mean to imply that Headquarters would permit influences—" "I imply nothing. I give you the benefit of the facts. But if you think it’s a pleasure to surmise that your every movement has an unseen spectator—you don’t know who, but you fear it’s a young and beautiful woman—" The sudden ring-a-ling of the telephone bell cut across the room. Mark Pryor took up the instrument. "Yes," he said. "It’s Mr. Pryor speaking. A young woman? Indeed! Well, I’ll see her up here." He hung up the receiver. "A young and beautiful woman," he repeated with a singularly straight face. Young Smilo, whose way of life was still in the green, the callow leaf, was divided between admiration and bewilderment. In half a minute or so there was a knock at the door. The young woman who came in was Janet Barr. *II* Smilo’s parting look was one of stupefaction at the reception the visitor got, Pryor’s enthusiasm being a startling abandonment of his neutral, self-contained manner. Left to themselves, Janet informed Pryor of the troubles that had brought her to see him. The chief of these was Hutchins Burley. Would Mr. Pryor advise her how to deal with him if he turned up again, as seemed highly probable? There were other difficulties. She had nearly exhausted her funds. She didn’t wish to return to the United States. Not at the moment, anyhow. Yet she couldn’t get a position without a character.