voni's Sam found Forsythe already seated and, with evident
interest, observing the scene of gayety before him. The place was new
to Sam, and after the darkness and snow of the streets it appeared both
cheerful and resplendent. It was brilliantly lighted; a ceiling of gay
panels picked out with gold, and red plush sofas, backed against walls
hung with mirrors and faced by rows of marble-topped tables, gave it an
air of the Continent.

Sam surrendered his hat and coat to the waiter. The hat was a soft
Alpine one of green felt. The waiter hung it where Sam could see it,
on one of many hooks that encircled a gilded pillar.

After two courses had been served Forsythe said:

"I hope you don't object to this place. I had a special reason for
wishing to be here on this particular night. I wanted to be in at the
death!"

"Whose death?" asked Sam. "Is the dinner as bad as that?"

Forsythe leaned back against the mirror behind them and, bringing his
shoulder close to Sam's, spoke in a whisper.

"As you know," he said, "to-day the delegates sign the Treaty of
London. It still must receive the signatures of the Sultan and the
three kings; and they will sign it. But until they do, what the terms
of the treaty are no one can find out."

"I'll bet the Times finds out!" said Sam.

"That's it!" returned Forsythe. "Hertz, the man who is supposed to be
selling the secrets of the conference to the Times, dines here.
To-night is his last chance. If to-night he can slip the Times a copy
of the Treaty of London without being caught, and the Times has the
courage to publish it, it will be the biggest newspaper sensation of
modern times; and it will either cause a financial panic all over
Europe--or prevent one. The man they suspect is facing us. Don't look
now, but in a minute you will see him sitting alone at a table on the
right of the middle pillar. The people at the tables nearest him--even
the women--are detectives. His waiter is in the employ of Scotland
Yard. The maitre d'hotel, whom you will see always hovering round his
table, is a police agent lent by Bulgaria. For the Allies are even
more anxious to stop the leak than we are. We are interested only as
their hosts; with them it is a matter of national life or death. A
week ago one of our own inspectors tipped me off to what is going on,
and every night since then I've dined here, hoping to see something
suspicious."

"Have you?" asked Sam.

"Only this,"