The Director of Central Intelligence leaned back in his chair.
"Do you know"—and he smiled as he said it—"I could have you—er—detained as a suspicious person, if I felt so disposed."
Her musical laughter rippled out. "But you do not feel so disposed, for what would it gain you?"
Their eyes met and there followed a quick duel.... The man's smile was a sign of defeat.
"If you don't want a Secret Service man, whom do you want?"
"A man who has brains and imagination—and, besides those, honor."
"Name him."
"Major Arnold Trent of Gaya."
Sir Francis lifted his eyebrows. "He is a doctor."
"That is the way with you military men"—with a sigh. "If one is a physician, you think he knows nothing but what is taught in schools of medicine! I want some one whose brain is free of tiresome Secret Service rules."