The Secret Adversary

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IN his suite at Claridge's, Kramenin reclined on a couch and dictated to
his secretary in sibilant Russian.

Presently the telephone at the secretary's elbow purred, and he took up
the receiver, spoke for a minute or two, then turned to his employer.

"Some one below is asking for you."

"Who is it?"

"He gives the name of Mr. Julius P. Hersheimmer."

"Hersheimmer," repeated Kramenin thoughtfully. "I have heard that name
before."

"His father was one of the steel kings of America," explained the
secretary, whose business it was to know everything. "This young man