"Don't apologize, Nan; it makes me feel ashamed."
Nan's frown, as she looked into the blue eyes, turned to a smile of appreciation. Sarah also smiled, and then she said:
"Let me make you a cup of tea before you go."
"A good idea. We're friends, then?"
"Why not? One friend is worth a thousand enemies and it's absurd to quarrel with one for doing her duty."
"That's what O'Gorman is always saying. Ever hear of O'Gorman?"
"Yes; he's one of the old stand-bys in the secret service department; but they say he's getting old. Slipped a good many cogs lately, I hear."
"He's the Chief's right hand man. O'Gorman used to have this case—the branch of it I'm now working—but he gave it up and recommended the Chief to put me on the job. Said a woman could trail Mary Louise better than any man and with less chance of discovery; and he was right, for I've lived half a block from her in Dorfield and she never saw my face once. But O'Gorman didn't suspect you were coming into the case and the thing's getting altogether too complicated to suit me."
Sarah was brewing the tea and considered an answer unnecessary. The conversation drifted away from the Hathaway case and into less personal channels. When Nan Shelley finally rose to go there was sincere friendliness in Sarah's "good-bye" and the elder woman said in parting:
"You're the right sort, Sarah. If ever you drift into Washington and need work, come to me and I'll get the Chief to take you on. I know he'd be glad to get you."