"So that's what you call them? Your operatives? That's wonderful. If I'm ever asked, 'Grandma, what did _you_ do in the second Great War?' I'll say, Johnnie I was an operative under W. S. Tompkins, the ace American Agent." "Would you mind not talking quite so loud," I again begged her. "Those two men following us might misunderstand." She glanced over her shoulder. "You mean those five men following us, don't you, Winnie?" I looked behind us. She was right. A group of five, if not six, people were trailing along behind us. Lamb and the F.B.I., Ballister and the Navy, as well as the Army's counter-intelligence and the O.S.S., were probably represented. "Five is right," I agreed. "You see, Virginia, I'm a pretty important person. You noticed, I hope, that President Truman took time out to chat with me." "What's he like?" she asked irrelevantly. "Of course, Roosevelt was all wrong but he had something on the ball. Who's this little guy from Montana, anyhow?" "Missouri," I corrected her. "He's from Missouri and don't you ever forget it. That's what he is, Virginia, a little guy from Missouri." We were at the Willard. "Here, Virginia, I must leave you," I told her. "You can't follow me up to my bedroom and anyhow I have a message for Jimmie from the President of the United States." "Nuts!" she answered brightly. "You're not fooling me for one little minute. You've just lied yourself into a bigger jam than you've lied yourself out of. Well, I'm on to your game." When I reached the room, there was no sign of Jimmie. This statement should be qualified. She herself was not to be seen but various articles of clothing were scattered around the room and there was a rush and gurgle of water from the bathroom which suggested that my wife was taking a bath. She was. "Winnie?" she called through the half-open door. "Theesa tha floor-waiter," I grunted. "You wanta me? I busy." "Waiter," she commanded, "please leave the room at once." "What'sa alla so secret, hey?" I asked, still speaking in subject-race style. "Letta me see!" I took the handle of the door, wrenched it open and pushed. There was an angry screech from inside, followed by an indignant, "Winnie, you beast! Get out of here!" I didn't, so Jimmie dropped the bath towel she had draped defensively across her shoulders and subsided laughing into a warm, soapy bath. "You are the absolute limit!" she declared. "I'll never forgive you for this. Tell me, what the President was like?" "Very nice," I said. "He reminds me of one time I saw a little fresh-water college football team play Notre Dame. You sort of wanted the little guys to make at least one first down, but you knew that if they did, it would just be an accident. No, Truman's one hell of a nice guy but that doesn't mean he could lick Joe Louis. Anyhow, he was complimentary about my work and he sent a message to you. Pity he couldn't deliver it in person, like the floor-waiter." "For me?"