g good fortune left him
pleasantly tranquil; he picked up, from the silver tray on the table at
his elbow, one of the firm's business cards, and scanned it with
interest:

KEEN & CO.

TRACERS OF LOST PERSONS

_Keen & Co. are prepared to locate the whereabouts of anybody on
earth. No charges will be made unless the person searched for is
found._

_Blanks on application._

WESTREL KEEN, _Manager_.

"Mistuh Keen will see you, suh," came a persuasive voice at his elbow;
and he rose and followed the softly moving colored servant out of the
room, through a labyrinth of demure young women at their typewriters,
then sharply to the right and into a big, handsomely furnished office,
where a sleepy-looking elderly gentleman rose from an armchair and
bowed. There could not be the slightest doubt that he _was_ a
gentleman; every movement, every sound he uttered, settled the fact.

"Mr. Keen?"

"Mr. Gatewood?"--with a quiet certainty which had its charm. "This is
very good of you."

Gatewood sat down and looked at his host. Then he said: "I'm searching
for somebody, Mr. Keen, whom you are not likely to find."

"I doubt it," said Keen pleasantly.

Gatewood smiled. "If," he said, "you will undertake to find the person
_I_ cannot find, I must ask you to accept a retainer."

"We don't require retainers," replied Keen. "Unless we find the person
sought for, we make no charges, Mr. Gatewood."

"I must ask you to do so in my case. It is not fair that you should
undertake it on other terms. I desire to make a special arrangement with
you. Do you mind?"

"What arrangement had you contemplated?" inquired Keen, amused.

"Only this: charge me in advance exactly what you would charge if
successful. And, on the other hand, do not ask me for detailed
information--I mean, do not insist on any information that I decline to
give. Do you mind taking up such an extraordinary and unbusinesslike
proposition, Mr. Keen?"

The Tracer of Lost Persons looked up sharply:

"About how much information _do_ you decline to give, Mr. Gatewood?"

"About enough to incriminate and degrade," replied the young man,
laughing.

The elderly gentleman sat silent, apparently buried in meditation. Once
or twice his pleasant steel-gray eyes wandered over Gatewood as an
expert, a connoisseur, glances at a picture and assimilates its history,
its value, its artistic merit, its every detail in one practiced glance.

"I