And now, some two months later, in his Washington office, the Chief of the United States Secret Service pushed a paper across his desk to a waiting man and leaned back in his chair.
“What would you make of that, Del?” he asked.
Robert Delamater reached leisurely for the paper. He regarded it with sleepy, half-closed eyes.
There was a crude drawing of an eye at the top. Below was printed—not written—a message in careful, precise letters: “Take warning. The Eye of Allah is upon you. You shall instructions receive from time to time. Follow them. Obey.”
Delamater laughed. “Why ask me what I think of a nut letter like that. You’ve had plenty of them just as crazy.”
“This didn’t come to me,” said the Chief; “it was addressed to the President of the United States.”
“Well, there will be others, and we will run the poor sap down. Nothing out of the ordinary I should say.”
“That is what I thought—at first. Read this—” The big, heavy-set man pushed another and similar paper across the desk. “This one was addressed to the Secretary of State.”
Delamater did not read it at once. He held both papers to the light; his fingers touched the edges only.