THE Secretary of State and Douglas hastened through the wide corridors of the immense State, War, and Navy Building. As they passed an elevator in the navy wing, Douglas caught a glimpse of Eleanor Thornton in one of the lifts as it shot downward toward the ground floor. On their arrival they were at once into Secretary Wyndham’s private office.  
“Glad to see you,” exclaimed Wyndham, “your call is most opportune”—he stopped on seeing Douglas behind the Secretary of State, and his went up questioningly.
 
“This is Mr. Douglas Hunter, attaché of the American Embassy at Tokio, Wyndham,” explained the Secretary of State.
 
“How are you, sir.” The Secretary of the Navy shook hands brusquely. “Will you both be seated?”
 
“I brought Mr. Hunter with me that he might tell you of certain information which he gathered in Japan about some movements of their navy.” He glanced significantly at Douglas, who nodded understandingly, and without more words gave a clear, statement of affairs in Japan, omitting all mention of other matters.
 
Secretary Wyndham listened to his remarks with the closest attention. When he ceased speaking Wyndham sprang from his chair and, walking over to the adjoining room, to his clerk, then closed the door and returned.
 
“I have told him to admit no one,” he explained , as he seated himself in his swivel chair.
 
“May we see the new charts of the Pacific?” inquired the Secretary of State, moving his chair closer to the other’s desk.
 
“Certainly; but first I must tell you of a occurrence which took place here earlier this morning.” A violent fit of coughing interrupted Wyndham, and it was some minutes before he could speak clearly. “Ah!” he , back in his chair and mopping his flushed face, “a spring cold is almost impossible to cure.”
 
“I don’t think yours will be improved if you continue to sit in a direct draft,” the Secretary of State, pointing to the open windows.
 
“I had to have air. By George! man, if you had been through what I have this morning—” he did not complete his sentence.
 
“What happened?” asked the Secretary of State, with growing interest.
 
“The plans of the two new dreadnaughts have been stolen.”
 
“Impossible!” The Secretary of State half started from his chair.
 
“Impossible? Well, I’d have said the same five hours ago,” dryly.
 
“Were they stolen from this office?” asked Douglas.
 
“Yes, and not only from this office, but under my very eyes.”
 
“How?”
 
“To give you both a clear idea I must go into details,” Wyndham drew his chair up closer and lowered his voice. “About twelve o’clock my private secretary brought me word that a man wished to see me personally. Of course, I have daily callers who all wish to see me personally, and usually my secretary takes care of them. This particular caller refused to give his name and said he would explain his business to me alone. I thought he was simply a harmless crank, and told my secretary to get rid of him as soon as possible.” Wyndham sighed. “In a few minutes my secretary was back in the office, saying that the stranger had a message for me from Senator Carew.”
 
“A written message?” asked the Secretary of State.
 
“No, a verbal one. With everyone else in Washington, I have taken great interest in the terrible murder of my old friend. The man’s statement aroused my interest, and, having a few minutes of leisure, I told my secretary to show him in.”
 
“What did he look like?” inquired the Secretary of State, deeply interested.
 
“A tall, dark chap; his hair and beard were black, and he had the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen in human head.”
 
“Was he well dressed?”
 
“No, his clothes were shabby but fairly neat. He looked as if he had spruced up for the occasion. I can’t say I was prepossessed in his favor by his appearance.”
 
“Did he give you his name?”
 
“No.”
 
“Do you think he was an American?” put in Douglas.
 
“It’s hard to say. At first I sized him up as being a Spaniard.”
 
“Didn’t you ask his name?” again inquired the Secretary of State impatiently.
 
“I did, and his errand. He ignored my first question, and in answer to the second said that he had come to examine some records. I informed him that he had come to the wrong office, and that my clerk would direct him to the proper room. He then made the statement that he had an appointment to meet Senator Carew here in this office at twelve o’clock. I was taken completely by surprise by the man’s statement and asked: ‘What day did you expect to meet Senator Carew here?’
 
“‘This morning, at twelve o’clock,’ he answered, and then added, ‘He is late.’
 
“Thinking the man a little daft or drunk, though I could detect no sign of liquor, I said , ‘A likely tale; Senator Carew is dead.’
 
“‘Dead!’ he shouted, springing out of his chair.
 
“‘Yes, dead—murdered last Monday night.’ I hadn’t anticipated giving him such a shock, or I would have broken the news more gently. The effect on my visitor was . He on the floor in a fit. The electric bells in this office are out of order, and, although I shouted for help, no one heard me. I sprang out of my chair, the man’s necktie and collar, threw the contents of my ice in his face, and then bolted into the other room to get assistance. Most of the clerks had gone out to their lunch. I called two men who happened to be eating their lunch in an adjoining room, and we hastened back here only to find my............