works under the directions of the same chief? He was a man--"

Here the Washington correspondent gave a description that caused Jack
Benson to exclaim:

"Why, that's M. Lemaire, to a dot!"

"I guess there's no doubt about it, then," laughed Mr. Graham. "You've
fallen into the hands of a pair of the boldest, wickedest and cleverest
of foreign spies."

"I thank you heartily for informing me about them," breathed Jack Benson,
his eyes gleaming as he thought of the pair. "But there's one thing
that puzzles me. Mlle. Nadiboff is a Russian, and M. Lemaire must be a
Frenchman. Then which country owns that precious pair?"

"Spies rarely have any country," smiled the washington correspondent.
"They work for whichever government will pay them best. Today they will
sell out their employers of yesterday."

"They're a noble lot, then," grunted Jack, disgustedly.

Mr. Hennessy proposed that they go down to have a look at the dungeon
underground. While they were examining that damp, slimy old cell, the
conversation continued.

"Has either of that pair seen you, Mr. Graham?" asked Jack.

"I don't believe it. I'm not stopping at the Hotel Clayton."