"You are absolutely certain, Wyndham, that you haven't been out of this office except on that one occasion?" asked the Secretary of State for the second time. "I will take my Bible oath on it," exclaimed Wyndham solemnly. The three men gazed at each other in silence, each busy with his own thoughts. The Secretary of State was the first to recover himself. "Have you had your lunch, Wyndham?" he inquired. The latter shook his head. "I've lost my appetite," he growled. The Secretary of State rose and placed his hand on the broad shoulder of the younger man. "Don't take it so much to heart, Wyndham," he said kindly. "We'll get at the bottom of this tangle before long. We'll all stand by and help you, and, remember, Chief Connor is a host in himself." "Thanks," Wyndham straightened his bent shoulders; his face was set and his eyes snapped as the spirit of the born fighter returned. "I'll move Heaven and earth until I catch that Spaniard. Must you both be going?" "Yes." The Secretary of State answered for Douglas as well as for himself. "We have detained you quite long enough. Let me know immediately of any new developments." "I will. Mr. Hunter, it's been a pleasure to meet you, although I am afraid the information you have given me, considered with the loss of the plans of the new battleships, complicates the situation. Good-bye, come and see me again," and the big door swung shut. Halfway down the corridor the Secretary of State paused and regarded Douglas seriously. "Talk of complicated situations----" he passed his hand wearily over his forehead, then started with sudden resolution. "Come on, Hunter, I'm going over to the White House; a talk with the President may clear my brain. Wyndham may have lost his appetite, but he's given us food for thought." CHAPTER XI OVER THE TEA CUPS Cynthia turned a flushed and tear-stained face toward Eleanor, as the latter entered the boudoir and approached her couch. "Is it all over?" she asked, choking back a sob. "Yes." Eleanor lifted her black crêpe veil, and, pulling out the hatpins, removed her hat and handed it to Annette, who had followed her into the room. "Take my coat, too, Annette," she directed, "then you need not wait." As the servant left the room she pulled a low rocking-chair up to the couch on which Cynthia was lying, and placed her hand gently on the weeping girl's shoulder. "Are you feeling better, dear?" "A little better." Cynthia wiped her eyes with a dry handkerchief which Annette had placed on her couch some moments before. "Oh, Eleanor, I am so bitterly ashamed of the scene I made downstairs." "You need not be." Eleanor stroked the curly, fair hair back from Cynthia's hot forehead with loving fingers. "It was a very painful scene, and Dr. Wallace's tribute to Senator Carew, while beautiful, was harrowing. I am not surprised you fainted, dear." "Aunt Charlotte didn't, and she was so devoted to Uncle James."