the card scraps but all papers she smoothed out, one byone. Finally, with a little cry of triumph, she thrust one of theseinto her handbag. She made this discovery just back of the press, andglancing up, she noted a hook that had formerly been hidden from herview, on which were impaled a number of papers--the chef's "copy" fromwhich various bills had been printed. Running through these papers shesuddenly paused, pulled one away from the hook and tucked it into herbag.
She was fairly satisfied, now, but still continued her search amongstthe litter. It was not easy to decipher writing or printing in that dimlight, but her eyes were good and the longer she remained in the roomthe more distinctly she saw. There was an electric globe suspended overthe press, but she dared not turn on the light for fear of attractingattention. Several scraps on which writing appeared she secured withouttrying to read them, but presently she decided she had made as thoroughan examination of the place as was necessary.
She left the room, locked the door again and boldly mounted the stairsto the office, meeting and passing several men who scarcely noticedher. Then she took the elevator to her room and washed her grimy handsand prepared for luncheon.
At the table she slipped another of the printed bills into her bag, touse for comparison, and afterward ate her lunch as calmly as if shewere not inwardly elated at the success of her morning's work. Josiefelt, indeed, that she had secured the proof necessary to confound thetraitors and bring them to the bar of justice. But there might be otherinteresting developments; her trap was still set. "There's no hurry,"she told herself. "Let's see this thing through--to the end."
Indeed, on reflection, she realized that several threads of evidencehad not yet been followed to their source. Some points of mystificationstill remained to be cleared up. Her facts were mingled with theories,and she had been taught that theories are mighty uncertain things.
On leaving the dining room, Josie got on her hat and jacket, went outto the street and caught an Oak Avenue car.
"Oh, Josie!" cried a well-known voice, and there sat Mary Louise, onher way home from the Shop.
Josie gave her a haughty look, walked straight to the far end of thecar and sat down in a vacant seat. The car was half filled withpassengers.
Mary Louise pushed forward and sat beside her friend. Josie staredstraight ahead, stolidly.
"No one here knows you," whispered Mary Louise, "won't you speak to me,Josie?"
No reply.
"Where are you stopping? What are you doing? How are you getting alongon the case?" pleaded Mary Louise, so softly that no one else couldoverhear.
Josie maintained silence. Her features were expressionless.
"I know you told me, in case we met, not to recognize you," continuedMary Louise, "but I'm so anxious for news, dear! Can't you come home,to-night, and have a good talk with me? You owe me that muchconsideration. Josie."
The car stopped at a street intersection. Josie stood up.
"Not to-night," she replied, and alighted from the car just as itstarted to move again.
"Bother Mary Louise!" she muttered, "she has made me walk three wholeblocks."
Mary Louise was human and she was provoked. There was really no needfor Josie O'Gorman to be so absurdly mysterious. Had she not known herso well, Mary Louise would have felt that Josie had deliberatelyinsulted her. As it was, she blamed her friend for inexcusableaffectation. "I'm not sure," she reflected, "that a girl can be adetective--a regular detective--without spoiling her disposition orlosing to some an extent her maidenly modesty. Of course, Josie hasbeen brought up in an atmosphere of mystery and can't be blamed for herpeculiarities, but---I'm glad _I'm_ not a detective's daughter."
Josie, however, wasn't worrying over any resentment her friend mightfeel at the necessary snub. She was on a keen scent and already hadforgotten her meeting with Mary Louise. Three blocks farther on sheturned into the walk leading to an old but picturesque residence, atone time a "show place" of Dorfield and the pride of theDudley-Markhams, but now overshadowed by modern and more imposingmansions.
Josie rang the door-bell and presently the door was opened by a youngand rather untidy maid.
"I'd like to see Professor Dyer," said Josie.
"He's gone to Washington," was the reply.
"Indeed! Are you quite sure?"
"Yes," said the maid; and then Mrs. Dyer's head appeared in the openingand she gave Josie a curious if comprehensive examination. Then:
"If you're from one of the schools, I'm sorry to tell you thatProfessor Dyer went to Washington by the early train this morning. Idon't know how soon he will be back. Professor Harrington of the HighSchool is in charge. But perhaps it is something I can do?"
"No, thank you; I can wait," said Josie, and went away.
"So," she said to herself, as she made her way back to town in a streetcar, "if Dyer has really gone to Washington, he hopes to get possessionof the old desk and its hidden papers. Pretty important to him, thosepapers are, and I wouldn't blame him for chasing them up. But--has hereally gone? Mrs. Dyer thinks so; but all evidence points to the factthat she's not in her husband's confidence. Now, if Dyer is on his wayto Washington, what did last night's secret meeting mean? His absencewill complicate matters, I fear. Anyhow, I must revise my conclusions abit."
CHAPTER XXONE GIRL'S WITS
As she entered the hotel Josie encountered Joe Langley, the one-armedsoldier back from the war. She had taken a great interest in this youngfellow and admired his simple, manly nature, having had severalinteresting conversations with him at the Liberty Girls' Shop and atthe drills. Josie felt she needed an ally at this juncture, and herewas one who could be trusted.
"Joe," she said earnestly, drawing him aside, "are you going to be busythis evening?"
"Yes, Miss O'Gorman, I'm busy every evening now," he replied. "I'vetaken a job, you know, and my loafing days and social stunts are over.There wasn't any bread-an'-butter in telling the society dames about mywar experiences, so I had to go to work. I'm night watchman at thesteel works, and go on duty at seven o'clock."
Josie was disappointed. Looking at him musingly, she asked:
"Are they making munitions now, at the steel works?"
"Of course; it's practically under government control, they say, but isstill operated by the old company. They make shells for the big guns,you know, and they've ten car-loads on hand, just now, ready to beshipped to-morrow."
Josie drew a long breath. This was real news and her active mind jumpedto a quick conclusion.
"Are the shells loaded, Joe?" she inquired.
"All ready for war," replied the soldier. "You see, a night watchman insuch a place has an important position. I guard those shells by night,and another man does nothing but guard them by day."
"Where are they stored?" was Josie's next question.
"In the room just back of Mr. Colton's office--the big main building."
"So Mr. Colton is still the head of the company?"
"He's Vice-President and General Manager, and he knows the steel andammunition business from A to Z," asserted Joe Langley. "Mr. Coltonrepresents the government as well as the steel works. The President isMr. Jaswell, the banker, but he doesn't do anything but attend theBoard meetings."
"Joe," said Josie impressively, "you know who I am, don't you?"
"Why, you're one of the Liberty Girls, I guess."
"I'm from Washington," she said. "My father, John O'Gorman, is one ofthe government's secret service officers; I'm working on a case here inthe interests of our government, and I may want you to help me foil aGerman spy plot."
"Count on me!" said Sergeant Joe, emphatically. And then he added: "I'dlike to make sure, though, that you're really what you claim to be."
Josie opened her hand bag and from a side pocket drew a silver badgeengraved "U. S. Secret Service. No. L2O1." That was her father's numberand a complimentary badge, but Joe was satisfied. He had to glanceinside the handbag to see it, for the girl dared not exhibit it moreopenly.
"If you want to know m
ore about me, ask Colonel Hathaway," continuedJosie.
"No," said Joe; "I believe you're on the square. But I'd never havesuspected it of you. Tell me what I'm to do."
"Nothing, at present. But should a crisis arrive, stand by me and obeymy instructions."
"I'll do that," promised the man.
When the girl had regained her room in the hotel, she sat down with abusinesslike air and wrote upon a sheet of paper, in her peculiarcypher, the story of her discoveries and