s. I have the honor to be a humble member
of His Majesty's Secret Service."

Laverick glanced at his companion wonderingly.

"I really didn't know," he said, "that such a service had any actual
existence except in novels."

"I am a proof to the contrary," Bellamy declared grimly. "Abroad,
I run always the risk of being dubbed a spy and treated like one.
At home, I am simply the head of the A2 Branch of the Secret Service.
Here come our drinks."

Laverick raised his whiskey and soda to his lips mechanically.

"Here's luck!" he exclaimed. "Now go on, Bellamy," he continued.
"The waiter can't overhear."

Bellamy smiled.

"Tim is one of the few persons in the place," he said, "whom one can
trust. As a matter of fact, he has been very useful to me more than
once. Now listen to me attentively, Laverick. I am going to speak
to you as one man to another."

Laverick nodded.

"I am ready," he said.

"Last Monday," Bellamy went on, leaning forward and speaking in a
soft but very distinct undertone, "a man was murdered late at night
in the heart of the city--within one hundred yards of the Stock
Exchange. The papers called it a mysterious murder. No one knows
who the man was, or who committed the crime, or why. You and I,
Laverick, both know a little more than the rest of the world."

"Well?"

"The murder," Bellamy continued, with a strange light in his eyes,
"was accomplished only a stone's throw from your office."

Laverick lit a cigarette and threw the match away.

"Horrible affair it was," he remarked.

Bellamy glanced toward the door,--a man had looked in and departed.

"Enough of this fencing, Laverick," he said. "A theft was committed
from the person of that murdered man, of which the general public
knows nothing. A pocketbook was stolen from him containing twenty
thousand pounds and a sealed document. As to who murdered the man,
I want you to understand that that is not my affair. As to what has
become of that twenty thousand pounds, I have not the slightest
curiosity. I want the document."

"What claim have you to it?" Laverick asked quickly.

"I might retort, but I will not," Bellamy replied. "Time is too
short. I will answer you by explaining who the man was and what
that document consists of. The man's name was Von Behrling, and he
was a trusted agent of the Austrian Secret Service. The document
of which he was robbed contains a verbatim report of the conference
which recently