No; that's just an outline of him. And on pretty good
authority, he's in Washington now."
Mr. Van Blarcom, I reflected, was surely coming out of his shell; this
was quite a monologue with which he was favoring me. It was dark now;
our lights were flaring. Being in a friendly port's shelter, we burned
electricity to-night.
"You seem to know a whole lot about this fellow," I remarked idly in the
pause.
"Yes, I do." He smiled a trifle grimly. "In fact, I once came near
getting him; it would have made my fortune, too. But he slipped through
my fingers at the last minute, and if I ever--You see, I'm in the
secret-service myself, Mr. Bayne."
I turned to stare at him.
"The United States service?" I asked.
"Yes."
I nodded. All that had puzzled me was fairly clear in this new light.
Not at all the type of the star agents, those marvelous beings who
figure so romantically in fiction and on the boards, he was yet, I
fancied, a good example of the ruck of his profession, those who did
the every-day detective work which in such a business must be done.
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