He sat at his desk intently studying a cable despatch which lay before him.  It was in the Secret Service code.  Leaning over his shoulder was Mr. Grimm—­the Mr. Grimm of the bureau.  Mr. Grimm was an utterly different type from his chief.  He was younger, perhaps thirty-one or two, physically well proportioned, a little above the average height, with regular features and listless, purposeless eyes—­a replica of a hundred other young men who dawdle idly in the windows of their clubs and watch the world hurry by.  His manner was languid; his dress showed fastidious care.

Sentence by sentence the bewildering intricacies of the code gave way before the placid understanding of Chief Campbell, and word by word, from the chaos of it, a translation took intelligible form upon a sheet of paper under his right hand.  Mr. Grimm, looking on, exhibited only a most perfunctory interest in the extraordinary message he was reading; the listless eyes narrowed a little, that was all.  It was a special despatch from Lisbon dated that morning, and signed simply “Gault.”  Completely translated it ran thus: 

“Secret offensive and defensive alliance of the Latin against the English-speaking nations of the world is planned.  Italy, France, Spain and two South American republics will soon sign compact in Washington.  Proposition just made to Portugal, and may be accepted.  Special envoys now working in Mexico and Central and South America.  Germany invited to join, but refuses as yet, giving, however, tacit support; attitude of Russia and Japan unknown to me.  Prince Benedetto d’Abruzzi, believed to be in Washington at present, has absolute power to sign for Italy, France and Spain.  Profound secrecy enjoined and preserved.  I learned of it by underground.  Shall I inform our minister?  Cable instructions.”

“So much!” commented Mr. Campbell.

He clasped his hands behind his head, lay back in his chair and sat for a long time, staring with steadfast, thoughtful eyes into the impassive face of his subordinate.  Mr. Grimm perched himself on the edge of the desk and with his legs dangling read the despatch a second time, and a third.

“If,” he observed slowly, “if any other man than Gault had sent that I should have said he was crazy.”

“The peace of the world is in peril, Mr. Grimm,” said Campbell impressively, at last.  “It had to come, of course, the United States and England against a large part of Europe and all of Central and South America.  It had to come, and yet—!”

He broke off abruptly, and picked up the receiver of his desk telephone.

“The White House, please,” he requested curtly, and then, after a moment:  “Hello!  Please ask the president if he will receive Mr. Campbell immediately.  Yes, Mr. Campbell of the Secret Service.”  There was a pause.  Mr. Grimm removed his immaculate person from the desk, and took a chair.  “Hello!  In half an hour?  So much!”