"Well, I must see you alone. The sky may be rather red, you know."
At the last words the secret service man started slightly. "That's true, and I don't like a red sky," he answered. "Come into the house. You just caught me in time."
He led the way inside and up to his den, closing and locking the door after him.
"Now, then, what do you want to see me about?" he demanded sharply.
"Don't you recognize me?"
"I must say I do not, although your face seems familiar."
"I am Number Four."
There was a pause, and Adam Adams studied the face before him closely.
"Well?" came from the secret service man coldly.
"There has been trouble, Mr. Watkins. Matlock Styles sent me to you."