“Yeou’re kiddin’ me, Jack,” whined Perk, looking hurt.
“I repeat what I said; and to make it plainer I’m adding further that man you mention not only knew us for what we are, but also why we were whispering across our table so much, when certain things came up that had to be discussed, even against our general rule never to talk shop when in public.”
“The devil he did!” ejaculated the astounded Perk; “then why did yeou jest say there didn’t seem to be any spy a hangin’ ’round on our tail, to put them critters wise to our headin’ thataways—tell me that, Mister?”
“Ask me a hard one, brother,” Jack flashed back, still amused it could be easily seen. “I’ll go a step further, and say that he was tempted to speak to us, perhaps even join us at our table; but one thing kept him from doing so, which was the iron-bound rule that one agent of Uncle Sam must never thrust himself into any game that is being conducted by another of the brotherhood.”
Perk drew in a long breath, and stared at his comrade.
“Meanin’, I kinder guess, as heow that party might be in the Secret Service like we air—does that fill the bill, Jack?”
“Just what it does,” he was told straight from the shoulder.
“Then—yeou know him, I’m understandin’ boy?”
“I most certainly do, Perk—you’ve heard of him many a time too, even if you’ve probably never happened to run across him. That man’s one of the smartest detectives in the whole shooting match—his name, son, is Josiah Harper, sometimes called The Hawk on account of his long beak, and the fact that he possesses abnormal eyesight.”
Perk grinned as if relieved.