“But, Edith,” said Mrs. Varney, “more reason now than ever.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” said Mr. Arrelsford, “but we must go on.”
“But why—why are you doing this?” asked Edith, pleading desperately.
“Because I please,” snapped out the Secret Service Agent, and it was quite evident that he was pleased. Some of his satisfaction was due to the fact that he had by his own efforts at last succeeded in unearthing a desperate plot, and had his hands on the plotters. That he was thereby serving his country and demonstrating his fitness for his position of responsibility and trust also added to his satisfaction, but this was greatly enhanced by the fact that Thorne was his rival, and he could make a guess that he was a successful rival in love as well as in war.
“You have never pleased before,” persisted Edith. “Hundreds of suspicious cases have come up—hundreds of men have been run down—but you preferred to sit at your desk in the War Department, until——”
“Edith! Edith!” interposed her mother.
“I can’t discuss that now,” said Arrelsford.
“No, we will not discuss it. I will have nothing more to do with the affair.”
“You won’t,” whispered Arrelsford threateningly.
“Don’t say that,” urged Mrs. Varney.