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 Sure enough, McKinley was right, for he had no sooner given utterance to these expressions than the Government sleuth put in an appearance. He held a newspaper in his hand, and under pretext of reading it, took a seat almost alongside of us, assuming an owl-like attitude.

His work impressed me more for its "rawness" than anything else, but we both pretended not to see him. The conversation that ensued between Mac and myself for his especial benefit forms one of the most amusing episodes in my experience with Secret Service operatives. Gallagher was evidently congratulating himself on his eminent success. He had trailed the two arch conspirators to their lair, and had caught them in the act of conversing on a subject in which he, also, was deeply interested, so it was plain to a blind man that visions of the early capture of Mrs. Watson flitted past his distorted imagination.

"She will come through on the Canadian Pacific, and will probably stop off at Winnipeg for a day, arriving here tomorrow or next day," I remarked, in earnest tones. "But there is a possibility of her coming by way of Milwaukee," I continued musedly. "In any event, I have engaged quarters for her with Jerry's wife, who will take good care of her while here."

"Do you consider it safe?" inquired McKinley.

"Perfectly so," I replied. "They will never suspect her whereabouts, because she is not known here."

Had Gallagher been sitting in McKinley's lap he could not have brought his ears in closer range to his voice without running the risk of serious consequences. The "rubbering" position he assumed was killing.

"Well," replied Horace, half-dejectedly, "you know how shrewd these Government detectives are—they seem to be endowed with the instincts of a bloodhound in trailing criminals, and scarcely ever fail in getting their man."

It was ludicrous to see Gallagher swell up at this juncture, and it was all McKinley and I could do to keep our faces straight, notwithstanding the seriousness of the situation.

"Never you mind," I answered with an air of confidence; "Emma will be safe with Jerry's wife, and besides, she will be made comfortable, and probably become satisfied to remain here until after the trials."

"All right," said McKinley. "We will let it go at that, and in the meantime I shall keep a sharp lookout for Secret Service men, in case any of them should happen to stop off here."

After telling McKinley (also for Gallagher's benefit) that I intended to go on to Milwaukee and would return some time during the week, we concluded to take a walk. We were satisfied with the result of our conversation, and felt that we ought to give the Government sleuth the benefit of some outdoor exercise. Besides, I had a curiousity to observe his style.

Our tramp covered a period of about two hours, and was greatly enjoyed by McKinley and myself in more ways than one.

The best part of it was in watching the antics of Gallagher in shadowing us. He flitted around like a will-o'-the-wisp, his watery blue eyes taking on a tigerish expression at times, while his brindle locks resembled the disheveled coat of a coyote under the intensity of its owner's eagerness of manner.

The question naturally arises: How did McKinley become possessed of the knowledge that there was a letter in the postoffice addressed to Mrs. Emma Porter? Also, how had he learned of Gallagher's presence and become aware of his correct name?

As to the letter, Gallagher, being a Government officer, had arranged with the postmaster of La Crosse to let McKinley know, in an assumedly accidental way, that such a letter had been in his office for quite awhile, and incidentally to ask Horace if he knew any such person. McKinley, of course, could have but one reply: he was not acquainted; but, to all intents and purposes, the seeds of curiosity were planted in McKinley's breast, so that all the Government officials had to do was to wait patiently for the harvest.

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