at the Savoy Hotel, and the
object of his calling upon you? Whether, for instance, he took away with
him documents or papers intended for the Embassy and which you yourself
had brought from America?"

"You do think of things!" Mr. Coulson remarked admiringly. "You're on
the wrong track this time, though, sure. Still, supposing I were able
to tell you that Mr. Vanderpole was carrying papers of importance to my
country, and that Mr. Hamilton Fynes was also in possession of the same
class of document, how would it help you? In what fresh direction should
you look then for the murderers of these two men?"

"Mr. Coulson," Sir Edward said, "we should consider the nature of those
documents, and we should see to whose advantage it was that they were
suppressed."

Mr. Coulson's face seemed suddenly old and lined. He spoke with a new
vigor, and his eyes were very keen and bright under his bushy eyebrows.

"And supposing it was your country's?" he asked. "Supposing they
contained instructions to our Ambassador which you might consider
inimical to your interests? Do you mean that you would look at home for
the murderer? You mean that you have men so devoted to their native land
that they were willing to run the risk of death by the hangman to aid
her? You mean that your Secret Service is perfected to that extent, and
that the scales of justice are held blindfolded? Or do you mean that
Scotland Yard would have its orders, and that these men would go free?"

"I was not thinking of my own country," Sir Edward admitted. "I must
confess that my thoughts had turned elsewhere."

"Let me tell you this, sir," Mr. Coulson continued. "I should imagine
that the trouble with Washington, if there is any, is simply that
they will not believe that your police have a free hand. They will not
believe that you are honestly and genuinely anxious for the discovery
of the perpetrator of these crimes. I speak without authority, you
understand? I am no more in a position to discuss this affair than any
other tourist from my country who might happen to come along."

Sir Edward shrugged his shoulders.

"Can you suggest any method," he asked a little dryly, "by means of
which we might remove this unfortunate impression?"

Mr. Coulson flicked the ash once more from the end of his cigar and
looked at it thoughtfully.

"This isn't my show," he said, "and, you understand, I am giving the
views of Mr. James B. Coulson, and nobody but Mr. James B. Coul