thing very magnetic about Mr. Carter's personality.
Tuppence seemed to shake herself free of it with an effort, as she said:

"We couldn't do that, could we, Tommy?"

But to her surprise, her companion did not back her up. His eyes were
fixed on Mr. Carter, and his tone when he spoke held an unusual note of
deference.

"I dare say the little we know won't be any good to you, sir. But such
as it is, you're welcome to it."

"Tommy!" cried out Tuppence in surprise.

Mr. Carter slewed round in his chair. His eyes asked a question.

Tommy nodded.

"Yes, sir, I recognized you at once. Saw you in France when I was with
the Intelligence. As soon as you came into the room, I knew----"

Mr. Carter held up his hand.

"No names, please. I'm known as Mr. Carter here. It's my cousin's house,
by the way. She's willing to lend it to me sometimes when it's a case of
working on strictly unofficial lines. Well, now"--he looked from one to
the other--"who's going to tell me the story?"

"Fire ahead, Tuppence," directed Tommy. "It's your yarn."

"Yes, little lady, out with it."

And obediently Tuppence did out with it, telling the whole story from
the forming of the Young Adventurers, Ltd., downwards.

Mr. Carter listened in silence with a resumption of his tired manner.
Now and then he passed his hand across his lips as though to hide a
smile. When she had finished he nodded gravely.

"Not much. But suggestive. Quite suggestive. If you'll excuse my saying
so, you're a curious young couple. I don't know--you might succeed where
others have failed... I believe in luck, you know--always have...."

He paused a moment, and then went on.

"Well, how about it? You're out for adventure. How would you like
to work for me? All quite unofficial, you know. Expenses paid, and a
moderate screw?"

Tuppence gazed at him, her lips parted, her eyes growing wider and
wider.

"What should we have to do?" she breathed.

Mr. Carter smiled.

"Just go on with what you're doing now. FIND JANE FINN."

"Yes, but--who IS Jane Finn?"

Mr. Carter nodded gravely.

"Yes, you're entitled to know that, I think."

He leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, brought the tips of his
fingers together, and began in a low monotone:

"Secret diplomacy (which, by the way, is nearly always bad policy!) does
not concern you. It will be sufficient to say that in the early days of
1915 a certain document came into being. It was the draft of a secret