"That's a sensible question, Jimmy, and I'll try to answer it," Pamela promised. "Because when once the shells are made and used, the secret will be gone. I think it very likely that it would enable England to win the war; but, you see, I am an American, not English, and I'm all American. I have been in touch with things pretty closely for some time now, and I see trouble ahead for us before very long. I can't exactly tell you where it's coming from, but I feel it. I want America to have something up her sleeve, that's why."

"You're a great girl, Pamela," her brother declared. "I'm off downtown, feeling a different man. And, Pamela, I haven't said much, but God bless you, and as long as I live I'm going as straight as a die. I've had my lesson."

He bent over her a little clumsily and kissed her. Pamela walked to the door with him.

"Be a dear," she called out, "and come back early. And, Jimmy!" ...

"Hullo?'"

"Put things right at the office at once," she whispered with emphasis. "Fischer hasn't found out yet. I sent him a message this morning, thanking him for the carnations, and asking him to walk with me in the park after breakfast, I shall keep him away till lunch time, at least."

The young man looked at her, and at Nikasti, who out in the corridor was holding his hat and cane. Then he chuckled.

"And they say that things don't happen in New York!" he murmured, as he turned away.

CHAPTER XVI

An elderly New Yorker, a man of fashion, renowned for his social perceptions, pressed his companion's arm at the entrance to Central Park and pointed to Pamela.

"There goes a typical New York girl," he said, "and the best-looking I've seen for many a long day. You can go all round Europe, Freddie, and not see a girl with a face and figure like that. She had that frank way, too, of looking you in the eyes."

"I know," the other assented. "Gibson's girls all had it. Kind of look which seems to say--'I know you find me nice and I don't mind. I wonder whether you're nice, too.'"

Pamela strolled along the park with Fischer by her side. She wore a tailor-made costume of black and white tweed, and a smart hat, in which yellow seemed the predominating colour. Her shoes, her gloves, the little tie about her throat, were all the last word in the simple elegance of suitability. Fischer walked by her side--a powerful, determined figure in a carefully-pressed blue serge suit and a brown Homburg hat. He wore a rose in his buttonhole, and he carried a cane--both unusual circumstances. After fifty years of strenuous living, Mr. Fischer seemed suddenly to have found a new thing in the world.

"This is a pleasant idea of yours, Miss Van Teyl," he said.

"I haven't disturbed your morning, I hope?" she asked.

"I guess, if you have, it isn't the way you mean," he replied. "You've disturbed a good deal of my time and thoughts lately."

"Well, you've had your own way now," she sighed, looking at him out of the corner of her eyes. "I suppose you always get your own way in the end, don't you, Mr. Fischer?"