“I am a professional. But, since I can pick and choose to a certain extent, I usually choose such cases as strike me as most useful and most interesting.” “And my case doesn’t strike you as either?” “I don’t see yet that you have a case, Miss Templeton. I don’t see what there is for a detective to do.” “Then I’ll explain. I want you to follow—shadow, do you call it?—Mr. Mortimer every day and every night. I want to know what he does, whom he sees, where he goes. I will pay—anything——” Barrison put up his hand to check her. “Yes, I know,” he said quietly. “I quite understood what you wanted me to do. But your determination, or whim, or whatever we may call it, does not constitute a case.” “I can make you see why. I can tell you the reasons——” “I’m afraid that I don’t want to hear them, Miss Templeton. I simply can’t do what you ask me to. I’m sorry. There are detectives who will; you’d better go to them. I don’t like cases of that sort, and I don’t take them. Again—I’m sorry. Try not to think me too rude and ungracious.” She sat with down-bent head, and he could not see her face. He felt unaccountably sorry, as he had told her he felt. He could not have felt more grieved if he had hurt some one who had trusted him. Suddenly she flung up her head, and there was another look on her face—a harder, older look. “All right,” she said, in a metallic tone, “you won’t help me. I’m sure I don’t know why I should help you. But—if you won’t shadow Alan Mortimer these next two weeks, you take a tip from me: Shadow Kitty Legaye.” CHAPTER VI THE DIVIDED DANGER As she swept to the door, her golden head held high, her black scarf floating from one round white arm, she encountered a newcomer, one Tony Clay. “Beg pardon!” he gasped, standing aside. He was a cherubic, round-faced cub detective whom Barrison liked and helped along when he could—a nice lad, though a bit callow as yet. Miss Templeton’s trailing scarf caught in a chair and Tony hastened to extricate it. Feeling profoundly but unreasonably reluctant, Barrison made the introductions: “Miss Templeton, may I present Mr. Clay? He will put you in a taxi—won’t you, Tony?” “Rather!” breathed the patently enraptured Tony. “My car is waiting,” Miss Templeton said sweetly. “I shall be so glad if Mr. Clay will see me safely as far as that.” Five minutes later Tony Clay returned, with sparkling eyes and a delirious flow of language: “I say, Jim, where did you—how did she happen to——Oh, gee! Some people have all the luck! Isn’t she a peach? Isn’t she a wonder? Isn’t she just the——” “Have a brandy and soda, Tony, and shut up,” said Barrison, rather wearily. He was feeling a bit let down, for Miss Templeton was not a restful person to talk to, nor yet to hear talk for any long period. But Tony raved on. “She reminds me,” he babbled happily, “of some glorious, golden lioness——”