I Spy | Page 7

shall act upon it. Our Government stands
ready to take most drastic measures to stop such traffic."
"I see." The Secret Service agent stroked his clean-shaven chin in
meditative silence. "In England I went hand in hand with death; in the
United States I am likely to outlive my usefulness."
"Perhaps," with dry significance. "But recollect our Government is
ready to adopt any expedient to stop the exporting of arms and
ammunition to our enemies."
"As for instance--?"
"Leave our methods to us; you have your work. You will make your
headquarters at Washington City. There you will be able to place your
hand on the pulse of the nation, and there you will find--idle women."
"Have we not already representatives at the United States capital?"
The Herr Chief of the Secret Service eyed him keenly. "Our embassy is
concerned only with the diplomatic world. You are to send us word
whether the United States Government arsenals are working under a
full complement of men; of the orders placed by the Navy Department
for submarines, and the activities obtaining in private munition plants.
Be certain and study the undercurrent of sentiment for or against us.
Report as you have heretofore."
"How am I to get in touch with the private shipyards and munition
plants?"
"I will give you letters to residents loyal to their Fatherland. A number
of the owners of powder companies and munition plants usually winter
in Washington. I am also told that Mexican juntas still make
Washington their headquarters." The eyes of the Secret Service agent
were boring into him, but the older man's countenance remained a mask.
"You must bear in mind that if the American capitalists persist in
selling assistance to our enemies the attention of the United States must

be diverted to other issues...."
"Such a plan could only be carried out by creating a necessity of home
consumption for war munitions," supplemented the Secret Service
agent softly.
Without replying the Herr Chief of the Secret Service pulled forward a
small despatch-box from a cleverly concealed pocket in the upholstery
of the limousine.
"We are motoring to your nearest destination," he said soberly, opening
the box. "Here are your letters of credit, your passport, and
introductions to our friends across the water," handing him a leather
wallet. "They will see that you are properly introduced to Washington
hostesses. Go out in society; I am told it is most delightful at the
Capital. Make friends with influential public men and prominent
Washingtonians. Above all," with emphasis, "cultivate the gentler sex;
remember, idle women make excellent pawns, my dear Herr Captain
von Mueller."


CHAPTER IV
"SHOULD AULD ACQUAINTANCE BE FORGOT?"
Mrs. Winslow Whitney, gathering her wraps together, stepped from the
limousine.
"I shall not need you again tonight, Henry," she said, as the chauffeur
sprang to the sidewalk to assist her.
"Very good, ma'am," and touching his cap respectfully, he took from
the limousine the heavy fur laprobe and hastened to ring the doorbell
for his mistress.

Halfway to her front door Mrs. Whitney paused to scan the outward
appearance of her home. The large, Colonial, brick double house, with
lights partly showing behind handsomely curtained windows, looked
the embodiment of comfort, but Mrs. Whitney heaved a sharp sigh of
discontent. The surroundings were not pleasing to her. Again and again
she had pleaded with her husband to give up the old house and move
into a more fashionable neighborhood. But with the tenacity which
easy-going men sometimes exhibit, Winslow Whitney clung to the
home of his ancestors. It had descended from father to son for
generations, and finally to him, the last of the direct male line.
Although business had encroached and noisy electric cars passed his
door, and even government buildings dwarfed the impressive size of
the old mansion, he declined to give up his home, stating that he had
been born there and there he would die.
"Very well, you and Providence can settle the point between you, Dad,"
answered Kathleen, his only child, who had been brought in to use her
persuasive powers upon her irate parent. "But as long as mother and I
have to inhabit this old shell you must, simply must, put new works
inside her."
And Whitney, with the generosity which marked his every action to
those he loved, rehabilitated and remodeled the mansion until it finally
rivaled in up-to-date completeness the more ornate homes of the newly
rich in the fashionable Northwest.
"Has Miss Kathleen returned?" asked Mrs. Whitney, handing her wraps
to the breathless Vincent, who had hurried to answer the chauffeur's
imperious ring.
"No, ma'am."
"When she does return, tell her that I wish to see her."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Is Mr. Whitney in his studio?"

"Yes, ma'am. Shall I send Julie to you?"
"Tell her to