"What sort of a place is this, anyhow, Guest?" I asked him, looking round me with some curiosity. We were a long way from Fifth Avenue, and what I had always understood to be the centre of New York; but the bar in which we sat was quite equal to anything I had seen at the Waldorf-Astoria. The walls were panelled with dark oak, and hung with oil paintings. The bar itself was of polished walnut wood. All the appurtenances of the place, from the white linen clothes of the two servitors to the glass and silver upon the polished counter, were spotless and immaculate. In addition to the inevitable high stools, there were several little compartments screened off, after the fashion of the old-fashioned English coffee-room of the seventeenth century, and furnished with easy-chairs and lounges of the most luxurious description. In one of these we were now sitting.

"Better not ask me that," Guest answered dryly. "There are some places in
New York of strange reputation, and this is one of them. Now go ahead!"

I told him everything. He was a good listener. He asked no questions, he understood everything. When I had finished, he smoked a cigarette through before he said a word. Then he stood up and gave me my hat.

"Come," he said, "we have a busy morning before us, and we must catch the
German steamer for Hamburg this afternoon."

"Back to Europe?" I asked, as we left the place.

"Yes!"

"But won't that rather give us away?" I asked. "I came to go out West, you know."

"We must try and arrange that," Guest answered. "I'll explain as we go along."

We climbed an iron staircase, which came down to the pavement within a few yards of the bar, and took the elevated railway up town. We descended at 47th Street and, after a short walk, entered a tall building, from the hall of which several lifts were running. We took one of them and stopped at the eleventh floor. Exactly opposite to us was a door, on the frosted glass of which was painted in black letters:

"PHILIP H. MAGG, AGENT"

We opened the door and entered. A middle-aged man, dark and with Jewish features, was sitting writing at a desk. There was no one else in the room, which was quite a small one. He glanced at us both carelessly enough, and leaned back in his chair.

"Good morning, Mr. Magg!" Guest said.

"Good morning, gentlemen!" Mr. Magg answered.

"You do not by chance remember me, I suppose?" Guest said.

A faint smile parted the lips of the gentleman in the chair. He rather avoided looking at us, but seemed to be glancing through the letter which he had just been writing.

"I never forget a face—and I never remember one—unnecessarily," he answered. "It is the A B C of my profession. To-day I believe that it is Mr. Guest, and his friend Mr. Courage, whom I have the pleasure of greeting."

For once Guest's face lost its immovability of expression. Even his tone betrayed his admiration.

"Wonderful as ever, my dear sir!" he exclaimed.

"Not in the least," Mr. Magg replied. "I know of your presence here very simply. Yesterday I cabled my refusal to accept a commission on the other side."

"They sent to you?" Guest exclaimed in a low tone.

Mr. Magg nodded.

"A very unimportant affair," he answered. "Just a record of your movements, and to keep you shadowed until the French steamer is in next week. Unfortunately they forgot one of my unvarying rules—never to accept a commission against a quondam client."

"You are a great man, Magg!" my companion exclaimed.

"I guess not," the other answered simply. "What do you want with me?"

"Look at my friend," Guest said.

Mr. Magg looked at me, and though his inspection was brief enough, I felt that, for the rest of my life, I was a person known to Mr. Magg.

"Well?"

"He is going to Europe with me this afternoon—and he is also going West, a long way west, to shoot anything he can find on four legs."

Mr. Magg nodded.

"He has to be duplicated then!" he remarked.

"Precisely," Guest assented.

"I understand," Mr. Magg said. "Which Mr. Courage am I to provide?"

"The one who stays," Guest answered.

"It can be done, of course," Mr. Magg said. "Pardon me one instant."

He stooped down and fished up a kodak.

"A little more in the light, if you please, Mr. Courage. Thank you! That will do! Now side-face."

I was snap-shotted twice before I knew where I was. Then Mr. Magg drew a sheet of paper towards him, and began to make notes.

"You are staying?" he asked.

"Waldorf-Astoria," I answered.

"You will be prepared to leave practically the whole of your effects there, and take your chance of ever seeing them again."

"Certainly," I answered.

Mr. Magg nodded and turned towards my companion.

"The other parties," he remarked, "do not stick at trifles. What do they want from Mr. Courage?"

Guest was serious.

"Well," he said, "they probably give him credit for knowing more than is good for him."

Mr. Magg was thoughtful for a moment.

"It will cost you five thousand dollars," he said, "and another five for life insurance."

"Agreed!" Guest declared.

Mr. Magg made another note upon the sheet of paper in front of him. Then he turned to me.

"You must bring me," he said, "before you leave, the key of your room, the clothes you are now wearing, the keys of your trunks, and any information you deem it necessary for your successor to have. The French boat is due here on Wednesday. On Tuesday, Mr. Courage shall leave the Waldorf for the Rockies. You will excuse me now! I have another appointment."

We were out in the street again in a few moments. I was feeling a little bewildered.

"These things," I said, "are arranged pretty quickly over here."

Guest nodded.

"Mr. Magg," he said, "is known as well in Europe as in New York. There is no one else like him. He has been offered retainers from the Secret Service of every country in Europe, but he prefers to work on his own. He has over a hundred assistants, and yet you never meet a soul in his office…."

When we returned there in a couple of hours' time, I thought, for a moment, that I was looking into a mirror.

A man of my own height, complexion and general appearance was standing by the side of Magg's desk. The latter looked backwards and forwards rapidly from me to my double.

"Very fair," he remarked. "Eyebrows a little deeper, and you must note the walk, George. Now please step into the next room and change clothes with this gentleman, Mr. Courage."

I did as I was told. The next room I found was a most delightfully furnished sitting-room, with a chair-bedstead in the corner, and a dressing-room and bathroom opening out from it.

"You don't wear an eyeglass, Mr. Courage?" my companion asked.

I shook my head.

"No glasses of any sort."

"You have no peculiarity of speech? I have noticed your walk. I suppose you are right-handed? Have you any friends over here whom I should be likely to come across?"

"I should think it very improbable," I answered. "I have made out a list of all the people I have met in America, and the house in Lenox where I have been staying."

My companion nodded.

"At the Waldorf," he said, "your room, I understand, is 584? You haven't made any friends there?"

"I have scarcely spoken to a soul," I answered.

"And you have made no arrangements out West?"

"None whatever," I answered.

"It seems easy enough," he declared. "Go on talking, if you don't mind.
Your voice needs a little study."

When we reappeared in the outer room, Mr. Magg eyed us for a moment sharply, and then nodded.

"Good-day, gentlemen!" he said. "Pleasant voyage!"

We found ourselves outside with exactly an hour to catch the boat.

"I must buy some things for the steamer," I declared.

"I have everything that you will want," Guest declared. "I have sent my luggage down to the boat myself. No need for a man who doesn't exist, you see, to take any special precautions. Besides, we are quite four miles away from the docks."

We drove down to the steamer.

"Where are our state-rooms?" I asked.

Guest smiled.

"I haven't engaged any yet," he answered. "Don't look so startled. I can arrange it directly we're off. I expect the sailing lists will be looked through pretty carefully."

On the stroke of the hour the captain's whistle sounded, and the gangways were drawn up. The engines began to throb, in a few minutes we were on our way down the harbor. I stayed on deck, watching the wonderful stream of shipping and the great statue of Liberty until dusk. Soon the lights began to flash out all around us, and our pace increased. America lay behind us, and with it all the wonderful tissue of strange happenings and emotions, which made my few days there seem like a grotesque dream.