"I do, indeed," Darrin answered. "I am attached to the battleship 'Hudson,' now lying in this harbor."
"Then I will introduce myself," continued the young man in the gray suit. "My name is George Cushing. Do you recognize the meaning of this?"
"This" proved to be a small gold badge, revealed by Cushing as he turned back the lapel of his coat. It was a badge worn by men belonging to a special branch of the secret service of the American Department of State. The members of this special service are usually found, if found at all, on duty in foreign countries.
"I know the badge, Mr. Cushing," nodded Dave Darrin. "Now, what have you to tell me?"
"That big man with the green hat must have started that fight with the waiters in the theatre to cover his intended attack on me," Cushing replied. "At the moment of knocking me down, he snatched from my coat pocket and made off with a most important document."
"Then you almost deserved to lose it, sir," replied Darrin sternly, "as a punishment for wasting your time in such a place as that theatre."
"I must see the American admiral as soon as possible," urged Cushing, ignoring Darrin's reproof. "But first of all, I must ask you to pass me safely by that provost guard, or I might be detained at a time when I cannot afford to lose a single instant. You will vouch for me, won't you, Mr. Darrin? Here are my formal credentials," continued Cushing, producing and unfolding a wallet that contained properly sealed and signed credentials from the American Department of State.
"The paper that was stolen from you did not in any way relate to the defenses and fortifications here at Gibraltar, did it?" Dave asked.
"Not in the least," Cushing replied promptly.
"You give me your word of honor for that?" Dave asked bluntly.