any circumstances, touch a case without retaining complete liberty of action. But in this affair, I am not inclined to communicate what I know to a private person."
"Why not?"
"It would be against the public interest."
"So say the police. By the way, when were you called in?"
"This morning—at two o'clock."
"It hasn't taken long to get at the facts."
"A mass of data was available from those other cases."
"Yamotoga and Kornichef?"
Wygram's calm avowal of full knowledge of those dark affairs which so deeply stirred a section of the world had a palpable effect upon Hartz. But he went on with his catechism.
"Were you allowed to examine the body?"
"I was."
"Were you able to tell the police the exact cause of death?"
"Oh, yes."
It went against the grain for Saul Hartz to believe that Wygram spoke the truth, but tone and manner overrode all doubt. He was piqued by the discovery. For once, that proud creation of his own, the U. P. secret service, was at fault. It was far from pleasing to the Colossus that persons there were in the realm so much better informed than himself.
