"Why? It oughtn't to be difficult." Burnett looked fearfully around the room at their distant neighbors. "But it's burglary. Worse than that. If I, in my connection with the State Department, were discovered tampering with the papers of a foreign government, it would lead to endless complications and, perhaps, the disruption of diplomatic relations. Such a thing is impossible. Its very impossibility was the one thing which prompted Crowthers' suggestion. Can't you understand that?" Crabb was stroking his chin and contemplating his well-shaped boot. "Admit that it's impossible," he said calmly. "Do you think, if by some chance you were enabled to give the Secretary of State this information, you'd better your condition?" "What is the use, Crabb?" began Burnett. "It can't do any harm to answer me." "Well--yes, I suppose so. If we weren't plunged immediately into war with Emperor William." "Oh!" Crabb was deep in thought. It was several moments before he went on, and then, as though dismissing the subject. "What are your plans, Ross? Have you a week to spare? How about a cruise on the _Blue Wing_? There's a lot I know that you don't, and a lot you know that I'd like to. I'll take you up to Washington whenever you're bored. What do you say?" Ross Burnett accepted with alacrity. He remembered the _Blue Wing_, Jepson and Valentin's dinners. He had longed for them many times when he was eating spaghetti at Gabri's little restaurant in Genoa. When they parted it was with a consciousness on the part of Burnett that the affair of Baron Arnim had not been dismissed. The very thought had been madness. Was it only a little pleasantry of Crabb's? If not, what wild plan had entered his head? It was unlike the Mortimer Crabb he remembered. And yet there had been a deeper current flowing below his placid surface that gave a suggestion of desperate intent which nothing could explain away. And how illimitable were the possibilities if some plan could be devised by which the information could be obtained without resort to violent measures! It meant for him at least a post at the helm somewhere, or, perhaps, a secretaryship on one of the big commissions. The idea of burglary, flagrant and nefarious, he dismissed at a thought. Would there not be some way--an unguarded moment--a faithless servant--to give the thing the aspect of possible achievement? As he dressed he found himself thinking of the matter with more seriousness than it deserved. CHAPTER IV A week had passed since the two friends had met, and the _Blue Wing_ now lay in the Potomac near the Seventh Street wharf. It was night and the men had dined. Valentin's dinners were a distinct achievement. They were of the kind which made conclusive the assumption of an especial heaven for cooks. After coffee and over a cigar, which made all things complete, Mortimer Crabb chose his psychological moment. "Burnett," he said, "you must see that treaty and copy it."