It had also been reported that someone had attempted to blow up the loaded transport _Texas Pioneer_ on her way over.
And so Mr.Carleton Conne, of the American Secret Service, quiet, observant, uncommunicative, never too sanguine and never too skeptical, had strolled on to the _Channel Queen_, lighted his cigar, and was now tilted back in his chair outside the Quartermaster's office in Dieppe, not at all excited and waiting for the _Texas Pioneer_ to dock.
He had done this because he believed that where there is a great deal of smoke there is apt to be a little fire.

He was never ruffled, never disappointed.
Tom's acquaintance with Mr.Conne had begun on the transport on which he had worked as a steward's boy, and where his observant qualities and stolid soberness had attracted and amused the detective.
"I never thought I'd see you here," said Tom, his face lighting up to an unusual degree.

"I'm a dispatch-rider now.

I just rode from Cantigny.

I got a letter for the Quartermaster, but anyway he's got to turn me over to the Secret Service (Mr.Conne regarded him with whimsical attention as he stumbled on), because there's a plot and somebody--a spy--kind of----" "A spy, kind of, eh ?" "And I hope the _Texas Pioneer_ didn't land yet, that's one sure thing." "It's one sure thing that she'll dock in about fifteen minutes, Tommy," said Mr.Conne rising.