"Not a very elaborate income. No wonder he would like to run down those counterfeiters. It would be a feather in his cap, eh?"
"Most assuredly. Do you expect to double up with him? Of course, it's none of my business and you needn't answer if you don't care to."
"I don't know what I'll do yet. This is a complication I want to study first."
"I see. Well, if we can help you—"
"I'll send word, don't fear. And if I do send word, I want you to act on the jump."
"Don't worry about that. I know if you send word it means business," answered the secret service officer, with a laugh.
An hour later found Adam Adams on a train bound for Bryport. He reached that city in the evening, and from a directory he learned where the secret service man resided. A street car brought him to within two blocks of the dwelling. It was a building of no mean pretentions and on a corner which looked to be valuable. Walking along the side street he saw that two domestics were at work in the kitchen and dining room.
"He certainly lives in style," mused Adam Adams. "Wonder if he manages it on twelve hundred a year?"
As it was a warm night the windows were open and by going close to the house he could hear the conversation being carried on by the servants as they moved back and forth between the two rooms.
From their talk, he learned that Mrs. Watkins and her two daughters were at Saratoga, and that it was expected that the husband would join his family there soon.