te was undoubtedly serving the interest of his
country, Orme had no real certainty that he himself was in a similar
position. He had every reason to infer that the papers were of importance
to the United States Government, but after all he could only go by
inference. The affairs of some private corporation in the United States
might have a serious bearing on problems in South America and the Far
East. He decided to sound the girl for information that would be more
definite.

But first the question as to their next move must be answered.

"Do you know where we can get a motor?" he said.

"No"--she prolonged the word doubtfully. "We may have to take a
motor-cab."

"It would be safer than the railroad or the electric line." Then he asked
with great seriousness "Girl, dear, I don't know much about the meaning
and value of these papers in my pocket, and I don't care to know any more
than you choose to tell me. But let me know just this much: Are they as
important to you as they are to our enemies? Have you really been
justified in the risks you have run?"

"You have seen how far Alcatrante and the Japanese have been willing to
go," she replied, gravely. "I am sure that they would not hesitate to
kill us, if it seemed necessary to them in their effort to get possession
of the papers. Now, my dear, they are even much more important to my
father."

"In his business interests?"

"Much more than that."

They were walking along the glimmering canyon of La Salle Street, which
was now almost deserted in the dusk. A motor-car swept slowly around the
corner ahead and came toward them. It had but one occupant, a chauffeur,
apparently. He wore a dust-coat, a cap, and goggles which seemed to be
too large for him.

Regardless of Alcatrante, who was following them, Orme hailed the
chauffeur. "Will you take a fare?" he called.

The man stopped his car and after a moment of what Orme interpreted as
indecision, nodded slowly.

"How much by the hour?" asked Orme.

The chauffeur held up the ten fingers of his two hands.

Orme looked at the girl. He hadn't that much money with him.

"If I only had time to cash a check," he said.

"All right," she whispered. "I have plenty."

They got into the tonneau, and the girl, leaning forward, said: "Take the
Lake Shore Drive and Sheridan Road to Evanston."

Again the chauffeur nodded, without turning toward them.

"He doesn't waste many words," whispered the girl to Orme.

While th