And as that grand hailing sign had been answered by Fate's decree,
he was blind to the pathway leading on. For, in his fond conceit,
he only knew Worthington and Ferris as enemies.

With a restless impatience, he awaited the coming of his office boy
after he had trifled the time away over his dinner at the Imperial.
Leaning back in his chair, he keenly watched the voluble lad, in a
growing wonder, as Einstein triumphantly recalled every detail of
his master's evening movements of the past week.

"I didn't get on to them well, sir," concluded Emil, "but the last
two nights one or the other of them has kept you in sight all the
while.

"Daly's, the Imperial, Hammerstein's, the Waldorf, up where you
bought your outing goods, down to Proctor's, up the Boulevard to
the Colonial Club, they piped you off. You see I only got familiar
with them after a few nights. But now I have them dead to rights."

"And where did they go from there?" growled Clayton. "After they
reported to the old man," irreverently answered Einstein, "they
went together down to the Fidelity Company. I followed them in and
brought away a card. That's all, sir!"

Randall Clayton paced the floor in silence a few moments. Then,
taking out his pocketbook, he handed the eager youth a hundred-dollar
bill. "Keep this matter all to yourself, Emil," he gravely said.
"I will let you off now for a couple of weeks. Then I will take
you on again and will see if these 'spotters' are still on duty.
I will look out for you, and see you promoted."