army definitely was interested in it and high military officials soon would arrive to make thorough-going tests.
The professor glared down at the cowering Henry. "Just where did the newspaper get this effusion?" he demanded.
A faint voice answered: "From me, Joseph."
"Did it never occur to you that it was lying to claim that the army was interested in whatever mess it is you've dreamed up?"
"But it is true, Joseph. Colonel Fitzpatrick's coming tomorrow."
"What!"
"Oh, yes, Joseph. Here's the letter." Henry pulled an envelope from his inside pocket. It was directed to Professor Joseph Paulsen, and the return said, "War Department, Office of the Chief of Ordnance."
The professor stared at it, then unfolded the letter.
"Colonel Arthur G. Fitzpatrick of the Ordnance Staff has been detailed to investigate the developments outlined in your communication of April 10," he read aloud. "He will arrive at your laboratory at 10 a. m. April 20, accompanied by technical aides. Please be prepared to demonstrate your discovery at that time."
Henry gaily polished his steel-rimmed glasses, worry and nervous- ness forgotten. "Isn't it wonderful?" he chortled. "We'll be famous and make a lot of money and not have to raise guinea pins any more, and the United States will win the war, and—and everything." He beamed like a merry, undersized gargoyle.
The professor eyed him belligerently and drummed a steady, two-fingered tattoo on the table. "I think an explanation is in order," the tall scientist declared a trifle grimly, "and it had better be good. Why is this letter addressed to me?"
Henry colored. His goatee hung at a guilty angle. "Yes," he agreed somewhat lamely, "I guess maybe I should explain." He hesitated. "Well . . . well, Joseph, you see, I'd heard you mention knowing General Whittacker when you were younger, and I got to thinking that maybe if I could let him think you were the one behind my invention, he'd pay more attention to it. . . ."
"So you forged my name to a letter to him, pretending I was the one responsible for this abortion of yours, eh? You put me in the possession of appealing to an old friend—"
"But really, Joseph, this time my invention is sure to be a success. Here, let me show you—" He drew a small, black-bound notebook from his vest pocket.
"Oh, forget it!" snapped the professor. "I don't want to hear any more about it." He sighed disgustedly. "Bombs! High explosives! Japanese spies! I don't need any crystal ball to know that you've got us signed up for one of the worst doses of trouble since Galileo went on trial."
COLONEL ARTHUR G. FITZPATRICK set down his coffee cup and said: "Yes, those two undoubtedly were Japanese spies. G-2 reports that they've been exceedingly active in this section. You needn't worry about them any more, though. I got a report just before I left that they were picked up down in Pittsburgh late last night. They confessed to breaking in here in search of the formula for your new explosive."
The colonel's aides—two perfectly groomed young lieutenants—nodded confirmation. Professor Paulsen reached for the coffee pot. Colonel Fitzpatrick halted him with a gesture.
