“The fact is, Clayton,” he said suddenly, “that the Department is up against about the biggest thing in its history. German spies were pretty nearly as easy as picking cherries compared to this. And unless I’m very much mistaken, you’re up against exactly the same proposition. There’s the thing in a nutshell.”
“You mean——”
“I mean that if we can’t get anywhere with it—and we haven’t got far, I’ll admit—why your chances are pretty slim, working on your own. What’s more, if you should stumble on to something, the chances are one million to one that you’ll just get your throat cut for your pains. On the other hand, if you work for us—that is, if we work together on the proposition—why, perhaps we can help you in your search with our organization. And I believe you may be able to help us, or I wouldn’t have sent for you.”
“But what is this thing I’m—you’re up against?” I demanded.
The Chief scratched his head at this. “That’s just it. We don’t know—anything definite. However, I’ll tell you all there is to tell, and then you can make up your mind whether you’ll accept or not. I think Moore here told you that I’d like to have you working for me as an unofficial and fairly independent operative?”
“He was damned uncommunicative on the subject,” I answered.
Both the others laughed. “We don’t shout about our business from the housetops much,” said the Chief. “But this is a little of what we know. First of all, statistics. During the last six months no less than thirty girls have disappeared from the best families in and around New York—and not one of them has been traced.”
“Thirty-four, with the Schyller case,” said Moore softly.
“Exactly,” nodded the Chief. “Now, of course, girls are disappearing all the time, running away to go on the stage, eloping with the chauffeur, and so on. But very few of these are from the older, quieter families—the best families in the real sense. But the girls I’m talking about, of whom your sister was one, are practically all from the best families, all very young and all very prepossessing.”
The Chief broke off and ran his blunt fingers through his hair. “And, believe me, the pressure that’s been brought to bear on us to find them has turned my hair gray. But—we—haven’t—found—one!”