MY DEAR MISS DODGE,

The bearer, Mr. Bailey, of the Secret Service, would like to
question you regarding the disappearance of Mr. Kennedy and the
model of his torpedo.

MORGAN BERTRAND, U. S. Secret Service.

Even as we were talking the other two crooks had already moved up
and had made their way around back of the stone wall that cut off
the Dodge garden back of the house. There they stood, whispering
eagerly and gazing furtively over the wall as their man talked to
Elaine.

After a moment I stepped aside, while Elaine read the note, and as
he asked her a few questions, I could not help feeling that the
affair had a very suspicious look. The more I thought of it, the
less I liked it. Finally I could stand it no longer.

"I beg your pardon," I excused myself to the alleged Mr. Bailey,
"but may I speak to Miss Dodge alone just a minute?"

He bowed, rather ungraciously I thought, and Elaine followed me
aside while I told her my fears.

"I don't like the looks of it myself," she agreed. "Yes, I'll be
very careful what I say."

While we were talking I could see out of the corner of my eye that
the fellow was looking at us askance and frowning. But if I had