d
far too respectably dressed to be a beggar. He was almost old enough to
be her father, and besides there was about him an indefinable air of
authority that commanded her attention. She decided that, unusual as his
request appeared, she would hear what he had to say.

"What is it?" she asked, trying to assume an air of hauteur but without
being able wholly to mask her curiosity.

"You are an American, aren't you?" he asked abruptly.

"Of course."

"A good American?"

"I hope so." She decided now that he must be one of the members of some
Red Cross fund "drive," or perhaps an overenthusiastic salesman for
government bonds. "But I don't quite understand what it is that
you wish."

"I can't explain," said her questioner, "but if you really are a good
American and you'd like to do your country a great service--an important
service--go at once to the address on this card."

She took the slip of white pasteboard handed her. On it was written in
pencil "Room 708." The building was a skyscraper down-town.

"What is it?" she asked half indignantly, "a new scheme to sell bonds?"

"No, no, Miss Strong," he cried, "it is nothing like that. It is a great
opportunity to do an important service for America."

"How did you know my name?"

"I heard you give it to the clerk just now."

"And why," she inquired with what she intended to be withering sarcasm,
"have I been selected so suddenly for this important work?"

"I heard the address you gave, that's why," he answered. "That's what
makes it so important that you should go to that number at once. Ask for
Mr. Fleck."

"I can't go," she temporized. "I am on my way now to meet my mother at
the Ritz."

"Go to-morrow, then," he insisted. "I'll see Mr. Fleck meanwhile and
tell him about you."

Puzzled at the man's unusual and wholly preposterous request, yet in
spite of herself impressed by his evident sincerity, Jane turned the
card nervously in her hand and discovered some small characters on the
back; "K-15" they read.

"What do those figures mean?" she asked.

"I can't tell you that. Mr. Fleck will explain everything. Promise me
you will go to see him."

"Who are you?"

"I can't tell you that, yet."

"Who, then, is Mr. Fleck?"

"He will explain that to you."

"What has my address to do with it? I can't understand yet why you make
this preposterous request of me."

"I tell you I can't explain it to you, not yet," the man replied, "but
it's because you li