r deporting division looks after that, and it is one
of the hardest parts of our work. We've a pathetic case there now."

"You mean that Bridget Mahoney case," said an inspector, who had just
stepped up. "I beg your pardon for interrupting, but I was just going to
ask you to come and see about that case. There are some new
developments."

"I'll go right in," said Hamilton's guide interestedly. "I think you
might come along, too," he added, turning to the boy.

"Who is Bridget Mahoney?" Hamilton asked. "That's a good old Irish
name."

"And she's a good old Irish soul," the other answered. "She landed here
about three weeks ago, fully expecting her son to meet her, but during
the five days when she was in temporary detention he failed to show up."

"But why didn't you telegraph to the son?" asked Hamilton, who was
beginning to feel as though he knew all the ropes.

"We couldn't find his right address."

"Was he a traveling man?"

"It wasn't that. The woman said she knew he lived in a town called
Johnson, or Johnston, or something like that, but she didn't know in
what State. Now there are nearly forty post-offices with that name in
America, and we sent telegrams or letters to every one of these. But we
never received a definite reply."

"Well, if she's all right, as you say she is," said Hamilton, "why can't
she land and wait until her son is reached?"

"Bridget's over seventy," the chief replied, "and not very strong; she'd
be a public charge, sure."

"And yet she's all right?"

"Oh, perfectly," he said as soon as they reached the building.

"We got this telegram yesterday and I took it to your office this
morning," the newcomer answered, "to talk it over with you, but you
weren't there."

The chief of the Information Division glanced at the telegram and then
turned it over to Hamilton.

"Read that," he said. "That's the way it came, without signature or
anything."

Hamilton read it eagerly, and as soon as he had finished, "that's from
Bridget Mahoney's son," he announced, with as absolute assurance as
though it had been signed.

The deportation official looked up in surprise, but Hamilton's guide
made a hasty explanatory introduction.

"We should like to be as sure as you are," said the deportation chief,
"although I think we all rather hope it is from him. But you see it
isn't dated Johnstown or anything like that, and it isn't signed. Just
simply the words:

"'Don't--deport--my--old--mother.'