"You are an 'international incident,' " agreed Malinkoff gravely.
Cherry Bim, sitting on the step, smoking a long cigar, a box of which Petroff had given him as a parting present—looked up, blowing out a blue cloud.
"A secret service agent?" he said. "That's a sort of fly cop, isn't it?"
"That's about it, Cherry," replied Malcolm.
"And do you think they'll call me a fly cop?" said the interested Cherry.
Malinkoff nodded, and the gun-man chewed on his cigar.
"Time brings its revenges, don't it?" he said. "Never, oh never, did I think that I should be took for a fellow from the Central Office! It only shows you that if a guy continues on the broad path that leadeth to destruction, and only goes enough, he'll find Mrs. Nemesis—I think that's the name of the dame."
Malinkoff strolled to the edge of the wood and came back hurriedly.
"The aeroplane is returning," he said, "and is accompanied by another."
This time neither machine took the direct route. They were sweeping the country methodically from side to side, and Malinkoff particularly noticed that they circled about a smaller wood two miles away and seemed loth to leave it.
