He led the way inside and up to his den, closing and locking the door after him.

“Now, then, what do you want to see me about?” he demanded sharply.

“Don’t you recognize me?”

“I must say I do not, although your face seems familiar.”

“I am Number Four.”

There was a pause, and Adam Adams studied the face before him closely.

“Well?” came from the secret service man coldly.

“There has been trouble, Mr. Watkins.  Matlock Styles sent me to you.”

“The dickens you say.  What right has he—­”

“He had to do it.  Things are getting warm.”

“He should have come himself.”

“He couldn’t do it.  The detectives are shadowing every movement he makes.  He didn’t even dare to drop you a letter.”

“What’s the cause of the trouble?”

“Those queers in the safe.”

“Then the authorities got them?”

“Yes, and they’ve sent down some New York detectives, who are watching everybody.”

“Bah!  Styles must be getting nervous.”

“He told me to tell you something more.  They found something else.  It’s about the poison powder that was used.  You made some kind of a mistake—­”

John Watkins leaped to his feet and turned pale.

“I made a mistake?” he cried.  “How?  For Heaven’s sake, man, tell me all!” He went to a cupboard, got out some brandy and drank a stiff portion.

“That is what Styles wants to find out.  He thinks you put out some clews that point to him.  He says if you did he will blow you sky-high.  He wants the truth from you, and he wants it right away.”

“Clews?  Against him?  He is crazy.  I never put out a single clew against him.  Why should I?  Wasn’t it arranged that we should fix it against the girl, and didn’t I even go to the trouble to spy on Langmore and get the combination of the safe—­although it didn’t do any good.  And then after the job was done, didn’t I—­” The secret service man came to an abrupt stop, as if fearing he had said too much.  “Look here, did he tell you all this, or is this some game?”

“Hey!” exclaimed Adam Adams, pretending to be amazed.  “Did he tell me.  See here, I don’t care if you are the boss, I am not going to run the risk of being sent up for twenty years for you.  I came to help Styles out, that’s all.  I had the devil’s own job getting out of Sidham without being followed.  To-morrow I am going to take my money and move West.  You won’t trust a fellow, and yet you expect—­”

“Never mind, Pink, don’t get on your ear so quick—­”

“Ain’t I got a right to get on my ear?  You go and poison two people and then—­”

“Who said I did the poisoning?” John Watkins was plainly agitated.

“Didn’t Styles tell all of us?  He wasn’t going to have those clews pointing to him.  He says you bungled.”

“He is a calf!” roared John Watkins.  “Where is the nerve he used to have?  So he told all of you that I did the job, eh?  Well, I’ll square things with him for that.”