Van Teyl, as he hastened forward to meet his friend, presented at first sight a very good type of the well-groomed, athletic young American. He was over six feet tall, with smooth, dark hair brushed back from his forehead, a strong, clean-shaven face and good features. Only, as he drew nearer, there was evident a slight, unnatural quivering at the corner of his lips. The cordiality of his greeting, too, was a little overdone. "Welcome home, Fischer! Why, man, you're looking fine. Had a pleasant voyage?" "Storms for the first few days--after that all right," Fischer replied. "Any submarines?" "Not a sight of one. Seen your sister yet?" "Not yet. I've been waiting about for a telephone message. She hadn't arrived, a few minutes ago." Fischer frowned. "I want us three to meet--you and she and I--the first moment she sets foot in the hotel," he declared. "What's the hurry?" Van Teyl demanded. "You must have seen plenty of her the last ten days." "That," Fischer insisted, "was a different matter. See here, Jimmy, I'll be frank with you." He walked to the door of the bedroom, opened it, and looked inside. Its sole occupant was Nikasti, who was at the far end, putting away some clothes. Fischer closed the door firmly and returned. "I want you to understand this, James," he began. "Your sister is meddling in certain things she'd best leave alone." Van Teyl lit a cigarette. "No use talking to me," he observed. "Pamela's her own mistress, and she's gone her own way ever since she came of age." "She's got to quit," Fischer pronounced. "That's all there is about it. You and I will have to talk this out. Where are you dining?" "Downstairs," Van Teyl replied gloomily. "I was thinking of waiting for Pamela." "You leave word to have your people let you know directly she arrives," Fischer advised, "and come along with me." Van Teyl allowed himself to be led towards the door. Nikasti, with a due sense of his new duties, glided past them, rang for the lift, and watched them descend. Fischer turned at once towards the dining room. "Thank God we're in a civilised country," he observed, "and that I don't have to change when I don't want to!" They found a quiet table, and Fischer, displaying much interest in the menu, ordered a somewhat extensive dinner. "Grapefruit and Maryland chicken are worth coming back to," he declared. "Now see here, James, let's get to business. You've got to help me with your sister." "But how?" Van Teyl demanded. "Pamela and I are good pals, of course, but she has a will of her own in all she does, and I don't fancy that anything I could say would influence her very much." "There are two things about your sister," Fischer continued. "The first is that she's got to quit this secret service business she's got herself mixed up in." "Don't talk nonsense!" Van Teyl exclaimed. "Pamela doesn't care a fig about politics." Fischer grunted scornfully.