“What shall be done as to Snodgrass—also as to Mrs. Spencer and one o’clock tomorrow?” Ranleigh asked. “Do you wish me to prevent the meeting?”
“No,” said Harleston, after a little consideration; “simply keep them in view and follow them. I can’t imagine Snodgrass being concerned in this affair. It’s the lady he’s after, not her mission. It’s likely he doesn’t even know she’s in the Secret Service. However, keep an eye on them; I may be mistaken.”
The telephone buzzed. Ranleigh answered, then passed the instrument across to Harleston.
“Is that you, Harleston?... This is Carpenter. I’ve just had a most amazing proposition made to me. It will keep until morning, but drop around at the Department about nine-thirty and I’ll unburden myself.”
“Is it Marston?” Harleston asked.
“Exactly; however did you guess it?”
“However did you guess I was with Ranleigh?” Harleston laughed.
“I didn’t guess; I called Mrs. Clephane, told her I wanted you—and presto! There’s small trick about that, old fox—except in knowing your quarry. So long—and don’t!”
“If you don’t mind, Carpenter, I’ll stop on my way home. I’m just beginning to be interested.”
“Come along!” was the answer.