“What’s up, O’Gorman?”

“Hathaway’s coming here,” he said.

“Are you sure?”

“He’s in Dorfield to-day, waiting to see Lawyer Conant, who went in on the morning train.  Where’s Nan?”

“Here, my lord!” said Nan Shelley, stepping from behind a tall shrub.  “How are you, partner?  I recognized you as you passed the Huddle with the boy.”

“Field glasses, eh?  There isn’t much escapes you, Nan.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” asked Agatha reproachfully.

“Why don’t you make your own discoveries?” retorted her confederate. 
Then, turning to O’Gorman, she continued:  “So Hathaway’s coming, is he? 
At last.”

“A little late, but according to program.  How have you been getting along?”

“Bored to death,” asserted Nan.  “Agatha has played the lady and I’ve done the dirty work.  But tell me, why didn’t you nab Hathaway at Dorfield?”

O’Gorman smiled a little grimly as he answered: 

“I’m not sure, Nan, that we shall nab Hathaway at all.”

“Isn’t he being shadowed?” with some surprise.

“No.  But he’ll come here, right enough; and then—­”

“And then,” she added, as he paused, “the chase of years will come to an end.”

“Exactly.  We may decide to take him to Washington, and we may not.”

She gazed at him inquiringly.

“There are some new developments, then, O’Gorman?”

“I’m inclined to suspect there are.”

“Known to the department?”

“Yes.  I’m to investigate and use my judgment.”

“I see.  Then Agatha and I are out of it?”

“Not yet; I’m still depending on your shrewdness to assist me.  The office has only had a hint, so far, of the prospective break in the case, but—­”

“Oh, yes; I remember now,” exclaimed Nan.

“That girl up at Conant’s sent a telegram, in a desperate hurry.  I suspected it meant something important.  Who is she, O’Gorman, and why did the Chief cut under us by planting Sarah Judd in the Conants’ household?”

“He didn’t.  The girl has nothing to do with the Department.”

“Then some of you intercepted the telegram?”

“We know what it said,” he admitted.

“Come, let’s go to the house.  I’ve had no lunch.  Can you feed me?”

“Certainly.”  They turned and walked slowly up the path.  Said Nan, musingly:  “That Sarah Judd is rather clever, O’Gorman.  Is she in Hathaway’s pay?”

“I think not,” he replied, with an amused chuckle.

Nan tossed her head indignantly.

“Very well; play me for a ninny, if you like,” she said resentfully.  “You’ll get a heap more out of me, in that way!”

“Now, now,” said Agatha warningly, “keep your tempers and don’t quarrel.  You two are like cats and dogs when you get together; yet you’re the two cleverest people in the service.  According to your story, Mr. O’Gorman, there’s an important crisis approaching, and we’d all like to be able to render a good account of ourselves.”