as though it were not by my orders."

"Then--then I _am_ to be a detective!" she faltered.

The Tracer did not appear to hear her. He took up the notes, turned to
the telephone, and began to send out a general alarm, reading the
description of the person whom Gatewood had described. The vast,
intricate and delicate machinery under his control was being set in
motion all over the Union.

"Not that I expect to find her outside the borough of Manhattan," he
said, smiling, as he hung up the receiver and turned to her; "but it's
as well to know how many types of that species exist in this Republic,
and who they are--in case any other young man comes here raving of brown
eyes and 'gleams' in the hair."

Miss Southerland, to her own intense consternation, blushed.

"I think you had better order that habit at once," said the Tracer
carelessly.

"Tell me, Mr. Keen," she asked tremulously, "am I to spy upon Mr.
Gatewood? And report to you? . . . For I simply cannot bear to do it--"

"Child, you need report nothing unless you desire to. And when there is
something to report, it will be about the woman I am searching for.
_Don't_ you understand? I have already located her. You will find her
in the Park. And when you are _sure_ she is the right one--and if you
care to report it to me--I shall be ready to listen . . . I am always
ready to listen to you."