the information is
available, the name of the chief constable, sheriff or chef
d'gendarmerie in each district."

She looked up at him, her pencil poised.

"Are you serious--of course, I'll do all this, but somehow it reminds me
of a story I once read----"

"I know it," said Beale promptly, "it is 'The Case of the Red-Haired
Man,' one of Doyle's stories about a man who, to keep him away from his
shop, was employed on the useless task of copying the _Encyclopaedia
Britannica_--no, I am asking you to do serious work, Miss
Cresswell--work which I do not want spoken about."

He sat on the edge of the table, looking down at her, and if his eyes
were smiling it was because that was their natural expression. She had
never seen them when they did not hold the ghost of some joke inwardly
enjoyed.

But her instinct told her that he was very much in earnest and that the
task he had set her was one which had reason behind it.

"Take the districts first and work up the hotels, et cetera," he
suggested, "you will find it more interesting than a novel. Those little
books," he pointed to the crowded shelf by the window, "will carry you
to stations and ranches and farms all over the world. You shall be
wafted through Manitoba, and cross the United States from New England to
California. You will know Sydney and Melbourne and the great cornland at
the back of beyond. And you'll sit in cool patios and sip iced drinks
with Senor Don Perfecto de Cuba who has ridden in from his rancio to
inquire the price of May wheat, or maybe you'll just amble through India
on an elephant, sleeping in bungalows, listening to the howling of
tigers, mosquitoes----"

"Now I know you're laughing at me," she smiled.

"Not altogether," he said quietly; then: "Is there any question you'd
like to ask me? By the way, the key of the office is in the right-hand
drawer; go to lunch when you like and stay away as long as you like.
Your cheque will be paid you every Friday morning."

"But where----?" She looked round the room. "Where do you work?"

"I don't work," he said promptly, "you do the work and I get the honour
and glory. When I come in I will sit on the edge of your desk, which is
not graceful but it is very comfortable. There is one question I meant
to ask you. You said you were in a cable office--do you add to your
accomplishments a working knowledge of the Morse Code?"

She nodded.

"I can see you being useful. If you need me"--he jerked his hea