about the Society of the Friends of Peace as any man alive."
An imperious curiosity suddenly devoured Saul Hartz. "A member of it, eh?" A feeling of intense repugnance governed the framing of the question.
Wygram said calmly that he was not a member of the Society.
"But if you were"—Mr. Hartz disdained finesse where his feelings were deeply engaged—"you would have to deny it, I presume?"
"Expedient, no doubt," said Wygram dryly. "But I assure you the need doesn't arise."
The heavy face of the visitor lost a little of its gloom. There was even a light of eagerness in the somber eyes as he said: "May I ask one question? When Garland arrived here from New York a week ago, did he consult you professionally in the matter of his warning?"
"He did." The answer seemed a little reluctant.
"Sought your help and advice?"
"Ye-es."
"Sought the help you couldn't give?" The words were almost a sneer. "But no doubt you were able to offer advice that he was not in a position to follow."
Wygram laughed softly. "That is so, Mr. Hartz. But if you hold these a priori ideas in regard to my abilities why do you come to me yourself?"
"It doesn't follow that I've come to consult you. Howbeit, there is no harm in saying that I have. But
