had stolen a secret from Edison and would land at Dieppe. It had also
been reported that someone had attempted to blow up the loaded transport
_Texas Pioneer_ on her way over.

And so Mr. Carleton Conne, of the American Secret Service, quiet,
observant, uncommunicative, never too sanguine and never too skeptical,
had strolled on to the _Channel Queen_, lighted his cigar, and was now
tilted back in his chair outside the Quartermaster's office in Dieppe,
not at all excited and waiting for the _Texas Pioneer_ to dock.

He had done this because he believed that where there is a great deal of
smoke there is apt to be a little fire. He was never ruffled, never
disappointed.

Tom's acquaintance with Mr. Conne had begun on the transport on which he
had worked as a steward's boy, and where his observant qualities and
stolid soberness had attracted and amused the detective.

"I never thought I'd see you here," said Tom, his face lighting up to an
unusual degree. "I'm a dispatch-rider now. I just rode from Cantigny. I
got a letter for the Quartermaster, but anyway he's got to turn me over
to the Secret Service (Mr. Conne regarded him with whimsical attention
as he stumbled on), because there's a plot and somebody--a spy--kind
of----"

"A spy, kind of, eh?"

"And I hope the _Texas Pioneer_ didn't land yet, that's one sure thing."

"It's one sure thing that she'll dock in about fifteen minutes, Tommy,"
said Mr. Conne rising. "Come inside and deliver your message. What's the
matter with your machine? Been trying to wipe out the Germans alone and
unaided, like the hero in a story book?"

Tom followed him in, clumsily telling the story of his exciting journey;
"talking in chunks," as he usually did and leaving many gaps to be
filled in by the listener.

"I'm glad I found you here, anyway," he finished, as if that were the
only part that really counted; "'cause now I feel as if I can tell
about an idea I've got. I'd of been scared to tell it to anybody else. I
ain't exactly got it yet," he added, "but maybe I can help even better
than they thought, 'cause as I was ridin' along I had a kind of an
idea----"

"Yes?"

"Kind of. Did you ever notice how you get fool ideas when there's a
steady noise going on?"

"So?" said Mr. Conne, as he led the way along a hall.

"It was the noise of my machine."

"How about the smell, Tommy?" Mr. Conne asked, glancing around with that
pleasant, funny look which Tom had known so well.

"