Norton was idling at his desk when the city editor called him up to the wicket. [Illustration: NORTON WAS IDLING AT HIS DESK WHEN THE CITY EDITOR CALLED HIM UP TO THE WICKET] "General Henderson has just returned to America. Get his opinion on the latest Balkan rumpus. He's out at his suburban home. Here's the address." "How long will you hold open for me?" asked Norton, meaning how long would the city editor wait for the story. "Till one-thirty. You ought to be back by midnight. It's only eight now." "All right; Henderson's approachable. I may get a good story out of him." "Maybe," thought Gregg, who had lost nothing of this conversation. It was his opportunity. He immediately left the zone of the city desk for a telephone booth. But as he passed the line of desks and busy reporters he did not note the keen scrutiny of a smooth-faced, gray-haired man who stood at the side of Norton's desk awaiting the reporter's return. "Why, Jones," cried the surprised Norton. "What are you doing all this way from home?" "Orders," said Jones, smiling faintly as he delivered a note to the reporter. "Anything serious?" "Not that I am aware of. Miss Florence was rather particular. She wanted to be sure that the note reached your hands safely." "And do you mean to say that you came away and left her alone in that house?" Again Jones smiled. "I left her well guarded, you may be sure of that. She will never run away again." He waited for Norton to read the note. It was nothing more than one of those love orders to come and call at once. And she had made Jones venture into town with it! The reporter smiled and put the note away tenderly. And then he caught Jones smiling, too. "I'm going to marry her, Jones." "That remains to be seen," replied the butler, not unkindly. "Well, anyhow, thanks for bringing the note. But I've got to disappoint her to-night. I'm off in a deuce of a hurry to interview General Henderson. I'll be out to tea to-morrow. You can find your way out of this old firetrap. By-by!" The moment he turned away the smile faded from Jones' face, and with the quickness and noiselessness of a cat he reached the side of the booth in which Gregg believed himself so secure from eavesdropping. The half dozen words Jones heard convinced him that Norton was again the object of the Black Hundred's attention. He had seen the man's face that memorable night when the balloon stopped for its passenger. Before Gregg came out of the booth Jones decided to overtake Norton and forewarn him, but unfortunately the reporter was nowhere in sight. There was left for Jones nothing else but to return home or follow when Gregg came out. As this night he knew Florence to be exceptionally well guarded, both within and without the house, he decided to wait and follow the spy.