Daniel Taylor entered quickly without acknowledging the presence of his inferiors and crossed to his desk by the window. He was a man above medium height, broad of shoulder, thick through the chest and giving the idea of one who was alert and aggressive mentally and physically. Those in the service who had set themselves against him had been broken. His path had been strewn with other men’s regrets; but Taylor climbed steadily, never caring for what was below, but grasping eagerly for power. Naturally a man of his type must have had other qualities than mere aggressiveness to aid him in such vigorous competition. He had commended himself to the powers above him for snap judgment and quick action. And although men of his temperament must inevitably make mistakes, it was notorious that Taylor made fewer than his rivals. Toward men like Duncan and Gibbs who were not destined to rise, men who could be replaced without trouble, Taylor paid small heed. They did what he told them and if they failed he never forgot. It was to the men above him that Taylor showed what small social gifts nature had given him. He had sworn to rise in the service and he cultivated only those who might aid him. After glancing over the papers arranged on his desk he called to Duncan: “Has Miss Cartwright been here yet?” “No, sir,” Duncan responded promptly. His superior pushed the buzzer on his desk and then looked across at the uncomfortable Gibbs. “Want to see me?” he snapped. “Yes, sir,” Gibbs made answer as Peter the doorkeeper entered in answer to Taylor’s summons. “Then wait outside,” Taylor said, “I’ll see you in five minutes.” “Yes, sir,” Gibbs said obediently and made his exit. The deputy-surveyor turned toward the attendant. “Peter, let me know the instant Miss Cartwright arrives. Don’t forget; it’s important. That’s all.” He dismissed Peter with a nod and then called to Duncan. “Did Bronson of the New York Burglar Insurance Company send over some papers to me relating to the theft of Miss Cartwright’s jewels?” Duncan took a long envelope and laid it on his chief’s desk. “Here they are, sir.” Taylor looked at the documents eagerly. “By George!” he cried, when he had looked into them, “I knew I was right. I knew there was something queer about the way her diamonds were stolen.” Duncan looked at him frowning. He prided himself upon his grasp of detail and here was the Chief talking about a case he knew naught of. “What diamonds?” he asked. “The case wasn’t in our office, was it?” “No,” said Taylor, “this is a little outside job my friend Bronson’s mixed up in, but it may be a help to us.” He went on reading the papers and presently exclaimed: “It’s a frame-up. She wasn’t robbed, although she collected from the company on a false claim.” “But I can’t see--” the puzzled Duncan returned. “No,” said his chief, cutting him short. “If you could, you’d have my job. Has the Mauretania got to Quarantine yet?” “Not yet, sir,” Duncan answered.