also ourselves."

After the first warning twist, the garrote had been relaxed just enough
to permit Harleston breath sufficient for life, yet not sufficient for
an outcry; moreover, he knew that at the first murmur of a yell the
wrist behind him would turn and he would be throttled into
unconsciousness.

There was nothing to do but be quiet and as complaisant as his captors
wished, and await developments. And the irony of such a
situation--happening in the most crowded and most popular hotel in the
Capital, with hundreds of guests at hand, and scores of servants poised
to obey one's slightest nod--struck him with all the force of its
supreme absurdity. It was but another proof of the proposition that one
is never so alone as in the midst of a throng.

He smiled--somewhat chillily, it must be admitted--and whispered, his
speaking voice being shut off by the garrote.

"The quicker you look, the sooner I shall, I hope, be released from this
rather uncomfortable position."

"Good eye!" said Crenshaw. "You're a reasonable man, Mr. Harleston,
it's a pleasure to do business with you."

"Proceed!" Harleston whispered. "I haven't the letter with me, as you
should know. Do I look so much like a novice? Furthermore, if I am not
mistaken, I told you that I was going direct to the State Department to
deliver the letter for translation so how could I have it now?"

"We're not debating, we're searching," Crenshaw sneered; "though it may
occur to you that a copy is as easy of translation as the original.
However, we will proceed with the inspection--the proof of the caviare
is in the roe of the sturgeon."

"Then I pray you open the fish at once," said Harleston. "I can't assist
you in my present attitude, so get along, Mr. Crenshaw, if you please.
You interrupted my dinner--I was just at the soup; and you may believe
me when I say that I'm a bit hungry."

"With your permission," Crenshaw replied, proceeding to go through
Harleston's pockets, and finding nothing but the usual--which he
replaced.

He came last to the breast-pocket of the coat; in it were the wallet and
one letter--the letter that had brought Harleston here.

"It caught you!" Crenshaw smiled. "There's no bait like a pretty woman!"

Harleston raised his eyebrows and shrugged his answer.

"And a rather neat trap, wasn't it--we're very much pleased with it."

"You'll not be pleased with what it produces," Harleston smiled.

"It has produced you," the other