get hell from the home office,
though, for meddling in politics."

Goodenough came in then, rather a different man from the stern
little martinet who had stood in the throat of the arcade. He
was all smiles.

"Evening, Mrs. Davey," he said genially. "That one man went
away, Grim, and three took his place. They shan't be disturbed.
Narayan Singh has gone off duty. Now, Mrs. Davey, I've been told
that Americans all went dry, on account of a new religion called
the Volstead Act. D'you mean to say you'd tempt a thirsty
soldier with a dry martini?"

Chapter Sixteen

"The Enemy is nearly always useful if you leave him free to
make mistakes."

The next item on the program was to awaken Suliman. He did not
want to wake up. He had lost all interest in secret service for
the time being. Even the sight of Mrs. Davey's New York candy
did not stir enthusiasm; he declared it was stuff fit for
bints,* not men. [*Women]

"All right then," Grim announced at last.

"School for you, and I'll get another side-partner."

That settled it. The boy, on whose lips the word dog was a foul
epithet, was actually proud to share a packing-case bedroom with
Julius Caesar the mess bull-dog. School, where there would be
other iniquitous small boys to be led into trouble, had no
particular terrors. But to lose his job and to see another boy,
perhaps a Jew or a Christian, become Jimgrim's Jack-of-all-jobs
was outside the pale of inflictions that pride could tolerate.

"I am awake!" he retorted, rubbing his eyes to prove it.

"Come here, then. D'you know where to find your mother?"

"At the place where I went yesterday."

"Take her some of Mrs. Davey's candy. Don't eat it on the way,
mind. Get inside the place if you can. If she won't let you in
try how much you can see through the door. Ask no questions. If
she asks what you've been doing, tell her the truth: say that
you cleaned my boots and washed Julius Caesar. Then come back
here and tell me all you've seen."

"Sending him to spy on his own mother, Jim?" asked Mrs. Davey as
Suliman left the room with candy in both fists. She paused from
stitching at the cotton bags to look straight at Grim.

"His mother is old Scharnhoff's housekeeper," Grim answered.
"Scharnhoff wouldn't stand for the boy, and drove him out. The
mother liked Scharnhoff's flesh-pots better than the prospects of
the streets, so she stayed on, swiping stuff from Scharnhoff's
larde