"If that is not a command," said Harleston, "I should like first to
consult you about a matter which arose last night, or rather early this
morning. I was bound for your office now. I can, however, give you the
main facts as we go along."

"Proceed!" said the Secretary. "I'm all attention."

"It may be of grave importance and it may be of very little--"

"What do you think it is?"

"I think it is of first importance, judging from known facts. If
Carpenter can translate the cipher message, it will--"

"The Department has full faith in your diagnosis, Harleston. You're the
surgeon; you prescribe the treatment and I'll see that it is followed.
Now drive on with the story."

"It begins with a letter, a photograph, a handkerchief, three American
Beauty roses--all in the cab of the sleeping horse--"

"God bless my soul!" exclaimed the Secretary.

"--at one o'clock on Massachusetts Avenue and Eighteenth Street."

"Is the horse still asleep, Harleston?"

"The horse awoke, and straightway went to his stand in Dupont Circle!"
Harleston laughed and related the incidents of the night and early
morning, finishing his account in the Secretary's private office.