“Why, sir, I suppose I could—if it is necessary——” He hesitated.
“It is necessary,” said the chief curtly, as if that settled the matter.
“But—half an hour!” ejaculated Gordon in dismay. “I could hardly get to my rooms and back to the station. I don’t see how—— Isn’t there a train a little later?”
“Later train won’t do. Call up your man on the ’phone. Tell him to pack your bag and meet you at the station in twenty minutes. You’ll need evening clothes. Can you depend on your man to get your things quickly without fail?”
There was that in the tone of the chief that caused Gordon to make no further demur.
“Sure!” he responded with his usual business-like tone, as he strode to the ’phone. His daze was passing off. “Evening clothes?” he questioned curiously, as if he might not have heard aright.
“Yes, evening clothes,” was the curt answer, “and everything you’ll need for daytime for a respectable gentleman of leisure—a tourist, you understand.”
Gordon perceived that he was being given a mission of trust and importance, not unmixed with mystery perhaps. He was new in the secret service, and it had been his ambition to rise in his chief’s good graces. He rang the telephone bell furiously and called up the number of his own apartments, giving his man orders in a breezy, decisive tone that caused a look of satisfaction to settle about the fine wrinkles of the chief’s eyes.
Gordon’s watch was out and he was telling his man on just what car he must leave the apartments for the station. The chief noted it was two cars ahead of what would have been necessary. His gray head gave an almost imperceptible nod of commendation, and his eyes showed that he was content with his selection of a man.
“Now, sir,” said Gordon, as he hung up the receiver, “I’m ready for orders.”