She did not hear me come in, so engrossed was she in her thoughts. Nor did she notice me at first as I stood just behind her. Finally I put my hand on her shoulder as if I had been an elder brother.
She looked up into my face. "Have you heard from him yet?" she asked anxiously.
I could only shake my head sadly. She sighed. Involuntarily she rose and together we moved toward the garden, the last place we had seen him about the house.
We had been pacing up and down the garden talking earnestly only a short time when a man made his way in from the Fifth Avenue gate.
"Is this Miss Dodge?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied eagerly.
Neither Elaine nor I knew him at the time, though I think she thought he might be the bearer of some message from Craig. As a matter of fact he was the emissary to whom the stenographer had thrown the torpedo model from the Navy Building in Washington.
His visit was only a part of a deep-laid scheme. Only a few minutes before, three crooks—among them our visitor—had stopped just below the house on a side street. To him the others had given final instructions and a note, and he had gone on, leaving the two standing there.
"I have a note for you," he said, bowing and handing an envelope to
Elaine, which she tore open and read.