Willie went on down the street, turned the corner, and walked to Pearl Street. There he waited in the shadow beside a pillar of the elevated railway. Presently Sheridan came round the other corner of the block and joined him. Willie was all afire with curiosity. He wanted to ask his companion a thousand questions, but had discretion enough to keep quiet. “See here, kid,” said the Secret Service man. “What’s your name?” “Willie Brown.” “What part of town do you live in?” “I live in Central City, Pennsylvania. I’m just visiting in New York. Got here this afternoon.” The Secret Service man stopped and looked at his companion searchingly. “Well, you’re the cleverest country kid I ever saw. What made you try to disguise yourself and slip your message to me so quietly, just as though I was doing detective work?” “Why, you are doing detective work,” said Willie. “You’re a United States Secret Service man.” The man laughed. “Whatever gave you such an idea?” he said. “The telephone number you gave me was the secret call of the Secret Service,” said Willie. Willie could feel his companion’s eyes fairly boring through him. “Look here,” the man said. “Where do you get all these funny ideas?” “You needn’t try to deceive me,” said Willie. “I know you are a Secret Service man and I know you are watching those bargemen.” “If you know so much,” said the man, “tell me how you know it.” “That’s easy,” said Willie. “I worked with the Secret Service myself during the war and I know their secret number. The minute you gave me that number I guessed what you were and what you were up to.” “What did you ever do for the Secret Service?” demanded Willie’s companion, plainly astonished. “Do you remember the search for that German spy with the secret wireless? And do you remember that little bunch of boys from the Camp Brady Wireless Patrol that came here to help the Secret Service when you were so hard pressed?” “I sure do. Were you one of those fellows?” “Surest thing you know,” said Willie. “Well, shake hands. It’s no use to try to fool you any longer. I am a Secret Service man as you know. And I’m after that gang of canal boat men. I’m mightily obliged to you for your help to-night.” “It was mighty little help I gave you,” said Willie, “though I’d have been glad to help you if I could.” “You were a good deal of help. A fellow always likes to know he has somebody near that he can rely on. Nothing turned up, to be sure, but if those fellows had tumbled to who I was, I’d have needed you all right enough—and a whole platoon of cops beside.” And the Secret Service man chuckled. “What—what are those bargemen up to?” asked Willie, with some hesitation. “Wool smuggling. The case doesn’t amount to much itself, but it may help us to solve some matters that do amount to a great deal. But you haven’t told me yet how you got those old rags you have on and how you found me.”