"
"Very well. We'll close up the cards and play the game. The first thing
in the game, as I said a moment ago, Crenshaw, is not to squeal when you
are in a hole and losing."
A knock came at the door. Harleston crossed and swung it open.
A young man--presumably a business man, quietly-dressed--stood at
attention and saluted. If he saw the bound man in the chair, his eyes
never showed it.
"Ah, Whiteside," Harleston remarked. "I'm glad it is you who was sent.
Come in.... You will remain here and guard this man; you will prevent
any attempt at escape or rescue, even though you are obliged to use the
utmost force. I'm for down-town now; and I will communicate with you at
the earliest moment. Meanwhile, the man is in your charge."
"Yes, Mr. Harleston!" Whiteside answered.
"I want some breakfast!" snapped Crenshaw.
"The officer will order from the cafe whatever you wish," Harleston
replied; and picking up his stick he departed, the letter and the
photograph in the sealed envelope in his inside pocket.
As he went out, he smiled pleasantly at Crenshaw.
V
ANOTHER WOMAN
Harleston walked down Sixteenth Street--the Avenue of the Presidents, if
you have time either to say it or write it. The Secretary of State
resided on it, and, as chance had it, he was descending the front steps
as Harleston came along.
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