r them hot and heavy."

"The Secret Service," said Eveley slowly. "The Secret Service."

She crossed the room, and from her bag took out a small bit of steel
which she had carried there for weeks.

"The Secret Service," she said again, and held the badge tightly in her
hand.

"What have you there, Eveley?" asked Nolan.

"Nothing," she said, gripping it so tightly the sharp edges cut into her
hand. "Just a little souvenir--of Marie. That is all."

"Well, is there anything else, Angelo?"

"That guy Hiltze is a crook, too. He's what you call a Red. He's mixed up
with all the funny business going on."

"Are you sure, Angelo? You must only tell us what you really know."

"Well, they've got a lot of crazy shacks around town, and they hold
meetings. My dad goes to 'em. So a few times I went, too. This guy Hiltze
does the talking. He's got enough money. He don't have to sell autos for
a living, he does that for a blind, just like he strings Miss Eveley on
the Americanization hot-air stuff."

"Did you ever hear him speak?" asked Nolan.

"Sure. He says they are chasing him from cellar to garret, from mountain
to desert. He says they are the damned rich, and they got to keep him
harried to earth so they can grind the laborers under their heel. He
gives 'em all money for doing things, and hauling stuff, and getting
things across the border. I was there. He says they must pray God to
strengthen them to fight to the last ditch. He says the army and navy are
the slaves of the God of Money."

"I know he had rather--advanced ideas," said Eveley gravely. "But these
are such troublous times. Every one feels the lack, and the need in the
social life. He may have gone too far--but these are the days that try
one's soul. If it was only talk--"

"Aw gee," interrupted Angelo. "They ain't got no room to talk. I know all
about that stuff. I was over there with the rest of 'em, and I know. We
slept on straw, and dressed in rags, and lived like dogs. And they come
to a decent country, and get soured because they ain't fed up on chicken
and wine like a lord. It's a darn' sight more than they ever had before,
and the Secret Service needs to watch 'em. For they're the ones that did
for Russia--yes, and they're doing it for Germany now, and trying it on
Italy."

The Secret Service--the diagnostician of social unrest, with professional
finger on the pulse of the foreign element--had that finger touched the
wrist of Marie?

"But this