“My idea has been that if my father was still alive he would pursue his profession, so I searched the records of other navies, thinking that perhaps he might be serving under another flag. The day that you saw me at the Navy Department, Douglas, I had been going over old records, hoping to find some clew to his present whereabouts.”
Douglas colored hotly as he remembered the construction which he had put on her presence in the department. “What did you mean,” he asked, “by saying this afternoon that Senator Carew told you he could help you to bring your quest to a successful conclusion?”
“Senator Carew said that while in Panama he had seen a man who closely resembled my father. The stranger apparently did not recognize him, but so certain was Senator Carew of his identity that he gave him his visiting card, and insisted that he should call at the Navy Department in Washington. Douglas, do you recollect asking me about a man who you thought you saw with me in the elevator at the Navy Department on Wednesday?”
“I do.”
“I was terribly excited by your apparently simple question, for in stating that the man had black hair and blue eyes you exactly described my father.”
“Great heavens!” Douglas sprang to his feet. “It is most astounding, but such a man as you describe really did call at the Department that morning and insisted on seeing the Secretary, saying that he had an appointment to meet Senator Carew.”
“What became of him?” Eleanor’s lovely eyes were aglow with excitement.
“I don’t know. The Secretary and I both thought he had stolen the plans of the battleships.” Eleanor’s shocked expression stopped him. “Of course, now we know it was Colonel Thornton who called there later with you and Mrs. Wyndham, although how on earth he managed to steal the plans under the very nose of the Secretary is beyond me.”
“Let me think.” Eleanor pressed her hands to her throbbing temples. “I remember now; it must have been when Uncle Dana was using the desk telephone. He was leaning forward across the desk, and I recall that I noticed he had his right hand in a drawer; I couldn’t see very distinctly, as his body was between us and the drawer and his overcoat was also thrown on the desk. Mrs. Wyndham was looking at a book, and the Secretary was coughing his head off by the further window, with his back toward us.”
Brett struck the table a resounding blow with his clenched fist.