“THIS gentleman has called to see you, sir,” and the messenger handed a visiting card to the Secretary of State, who laid his pen down on his desk and carefully inspected the card.

“Show Mr. Hunter in,” he directed, then looked across at his stenographer. “You need not wait, Jones.”

As the stenographer gathered up his papers and hastened out of the room, Douglas was ushered in, and after a few words of greeting the Secretary motioned him to take the large leather chair placed beside his desk.

“I was sorry not to find you when I called yesterday, Mr. Secretary,” began Douglas.

“I was detained in the West and did not get here until this morning. What do you wish to see me about, Mr. Hunter?”

“First, to thank you for granting me a leave of absence.”

“That is all right. Senator Carew came here and asked as a particular favor to him that you be allowed to return to Washington. By the way, his death was terrible, terrible. His loss will be felt by the whole country.”

“It will, indeed,” agreed Douglas.

“Did you see Senator Carew before his death?”

“No, Mr. Secretary; I only reached Washington on Monday, the night of his murder.”

“It seems an outrage in these days of our boasted civilization that a man of such brilliant attainments, a man whose life is of benefit to his country, should be killed wantonly by a worthless, drunken negro,” exclaimed the Secretary, with much feeling.

“You believe, then, that Senator Carew was murdered by his servant?”

“I gathered that impression from the newspapers, and they all insist that the negro is guilty. Do you think otherwise?”

“I do.”

“And your reasons?”

“The use of the letter file, an extraordinary weapon for a negro coachman to use.”

“Is that your only reason for believing the negro innocent?" The Secretary’s piercing eyes studied Douglas’ face intently.

“No, sir.”

“Is there anything which strikes you as being of vital importance in the case which has not yet been brought out?”

“Senator Carew was chairman of the Foreign Relations Committee.”

The Secretary stared at Douglas for a full minute without speaking.

“I don’t quite catch your meaning, Mr. Hunter,” he said finally.

“Let me explain, Mr. Secretary,” began Douglas earnestly. “Some time ago I received a letter from Senator Carew suggesting that I apply for leave of absence.”

“Why?” snapped out the Secretary.

“He did not specify directly,” returned Douglas calmly; “he said he wished to consult me about my future. One moment”—as the Secretary opened his lips to speak. “At the end of the letter the Senator added that he hoped I was making the most of my opportunities; that it was only the part of wisdom to inform myself of all that was going on in Japan, and that he expected that I would be able to give him some interesting data about the ‘Yankees of the East,’ as he had always been curious as regards their customs, past history, and future plans.”

The Secretary settled back in his chair and fumbled with his watch chain. He was the first to break the silence. “Did you follow Senator Carew’s advice?”

“I did, sir.”

“With what results?”

“Among other things I discovered that there was an unusual activity commencing in the shipyards; army maneuvers were being conducted unostentatiously, and finally, the day I sailed, I heard a report that three transports were being fitted out at Wakayama, a closed port, and were to sail shortly under sealed orders.”

“Excellent! Have you any idea of the transports’ destination?”

“No, sir.”

“Why did you not send me this information before?” the Secretary spoke with unwonted sternness.

“I did cable a cipher despatch to Senator Carew. I thought you had requested him to get certain information, and did not care to have it sent through the Department directly.”

“The Senator did not take me into his confidence in the matter,” declared the Secretary, studying his companion’s face intently.

“That’s very strange,” muttered Douglas. “Very strange. Detective Brett, who is investigating the Carew case, declares, from writing found on a blotter, that the Senator wrote a letter to some unknown person. On one side of the blotter were clearly traced the words: ‘Am writing in case I don’t see you before ...’—and on the other: ‘I have discovered....’ Brett thinks Senator Carew was interrupted on two occasions while writing the letter, and laid the blotter on the fresh ink to prevent the person who entered from seeing what he had written.”

The Secretary followed Douglas’ story with the greatest attention. “A likely hypothesis,” he acknowledged, slowly settling back in his revolving chair, for he had been leaning forward on his desk the better to catch every word spoken by Douglas in his quiet monotone. “To whom do you think that letter was written?”

“To you, undoubtedly, Mr. Secretary. Possibly my information may have given him the clew he needed to verify certain suspicions. You were in the West, he wanted to get the news to you without further delay, and the only thing he could do was to write or wire.”

“Or telephone,” supplemented the Secretary; then, as Douglas’ face brightened, he added, “Unfortunately for your theory Senator Carew did none of those things.”

“You mean——?”

“That I have never received a letter, a telegram, or a telephone from him while I was away,” announced the Secretary solemnly.

“He may still have written a message and have been killed before he could get it off to you.”

“Has such a letter been found by Brett?”

“No, sir; nor any trace of it. So far, he has been unable to find out whether such a letter was seen or posted by any member of the Senator’s household. All he has to go on is the blotter.”

“Why did you not go at once to see Senator Carew when you arrived in Washington?”

“Because my cousin, Captain Taylor, who met me at the Union Station, gave me a note from Senator Carew asking me to call on him at nine o’clock Tuesday morning at his residence.”

“How did the Senator know where a note would reach you?”

“He enclosed it in a note to my cousin asking him to see that it was delivered to me at once on my arrival.”

“Has it occurred to you that Senator Carew’s missing letter, which Brett is so anxious to find, may have been addressed to you?”

“I never thought of that!” exclaimed Douglas, “I was so thoroughly convinced that he had tried to communicate with you.”

“I would inquire about your mail if I were you, Mr. Hunter.”

“I will do so at once,” Douglas half rose.

“No, no, sit down.” The Secretary waited until Douglas had resumed his seat. “Where are you stopping?”

“At the Albany.”

“You have brought me very serious news, Mr. Hunter. So serious that I must insist on some verification of your statements about Japan before you leave me.”

Douglas took from a cleverly concealed pocket in the lining of his coat a number of sheets of rice paper and handed them to the Secretary, who studied the closely written papers long and intently. Suddenly he pulled open a desk drawer and took out his strong box.

“I will keep these papers, Mr. Hunter, for future reference,” he announced, unlocking the box and placing the rice papers in it. Then, with equal care, he replaced the box in the drawer, which he locked securely. “We must go slowly in this matter. A slip on our part, and two great nations may become involved in a needless and bloody war.”

“I realize the gravity of the situation, Mr. Secretary, and have come to you for advice in the matter.”

“Good. I depend on you not to mention our conversation to anyone, nor do I think it wise to acquaint Brett at this time with your suspicions in regard to the motive for Senator Carew’s murder. With all good intentions Brett might blunder and cause international complications.”

Douglas stroked his clean-shaven chin reflectively for a moment. “Don’t you think, Mr. Secretary, that there is danger of being too secretive, and that the guilty party may slip through our fingers?”

“It is a risk which we will have to take. Frankly, I think you and Brett are equal to the situation.” The Secretary glanced at his watch. “Have you any engagement just now, Mr. Hunter?”

“No, sir. My time is at your disposal.”

The Secretary reached up and touched the electric buzzer hanging above his desk, and in a few seconds his stenographer appeared from another room.

“Jones, call up Secretary Wyndham and ask if he can see me,” and, as the clerk disappeared to execute his order, he turned back to Douglas. “There are certain charts of the Pacific which I wish you to see; they have been made recently. Well, Jones?” as the clerk reËntered his office.

“Secretary Wyndham is expecting you, sir.”

“Thanks. Now, Mr. Hunter, get your hat, and we will go to the Navy Department.”