question, Mr. Casey, because I don’t know. I can answer the second, though in absolute confidence. I warn you, if you publish this information it will be denied.”
“OK, shoot,” said Casey.
“Cator & Bliss are selling field guns to the Ixanian Government. I am here as consultant on questions of ballistics.”
Casey’s eyes hardened. Slowly he put his hand in his pocket and produced a bundle of papers. He singled out one.
“Your record, Professor,” he explained curtly. “New York cabled it to me a week ago.” He started to read: “Henry Barstow, Fellow of the Royal Society, Doctor of Science, etcetera, etcetera, what’s all this? University of so-and-so Chair of Physics:Fellow of Royal Society, 1925: ah! here we are: publications:
An Examination of the Atomic Theory, Collected Papers on the Lorentz Transformations, An Examination of Einstein Dynamics
, author of essay on ‘Atoms, structure of,’ in
Encyclopaedia Universalia
, new edition. Well, well, well! nothing about ballistics here, Professor.”
Carruthers laughed, not very comfortably.
“You’re a very thorough man, Mr. Casey.”
“Thorough enough to know, Professor, that Cator & Bliss’s ballistics technician is Major-General Lanceley-Pinton. He used to be in the British army.”
“Interesting, Mr. Casey, but I fail to see …”
“And the Ixanian Government aren’t buying field guns. They placed an order with Skoda three months ago.” He rose to his feet. “I’ll be seeing you, Professor,” he said, and was gone.
Carruthers looked after him down the street with mixed feelings. True, he was now free of Casey’s questioning, but, equally, he had failed to get the information he sought. Besides, his estimate of Casey had convinced him of one thing; that the
Tribune
’s foreign correspondent would not be content to abandon the Professor altogether as a possible source of information. He might even discover his, Carruthers’, impersonation and use the threat of exposure as a lever to secure the story he sought. There was only one aspect of the interview that gave him the least cause for satisfaction. Groom’s boast that he was unknown to the press of the world was, to say the least of it, an exaggeration.
The gentleman in question was already at dinner when Carruthers returned to the hotel. He appeared less preoccupied and a trifle more self-satisfied than at any other time since Rovzidski’s murder. Carruthers seized the opportunity to inquire after his progress.
Groom did not resent the question. “I can understand yourimpatience, Professor. Zovgorod is not an entertaining city. I think I can promise you that I shall soon be in a position to enlist your help. I am in touch with the right people. I shall know within two or three days whether my efforts have been successful or not.”
He hailed with unqualified approval the arrival of the
wiener schnitzel
he had ordered.
“At any rate, Professor,” he said, selecting the German mustard from the tray of condiments held before him, “they do know how
wiener schnitzel
should be cooked. Just a few more capers and thirty seconds less in the oil and it would be perfect. A German cook, thank heaven. Whoever originated the notion that French chefs were the best in the world didn’t know good German cooking.”
He returned reverently to his food. Carruthers ordered a
tyroler rostbraten
and did some quick thinking.
That Groom was in touch with “the right people” probably meant that he had managed to reach someone able and willing, as Rovzidski had been, to surrender vital information in return for a substantial bribe. The implications of this possibility depressed him. Obviously, if so many people were in the position of knowing enough for Groom’s purpose, his own difficulties were enormously increased. It would be harder than ever to prevent manufacture of the Kassen explosive permanently. He could probably hinder Groom’s plans by pretending that any account of the
“OK, shoot,” said Casey.
“Cator & Bliss are selling field guns to the Ixanian Government. I am here as consultant on questions of ballistics.”
Casey’s eyes hardened. Slowly he put his hand in his pocket and produced a bundle of papers. He singled out one.
“Your record, Professor,” he explained curtly. “New York cabled it to me a week ago.” He started to read: “Henry Barstow, Fellow of the Royal Society, Doctor of Science, etcetera, etcetera, what’s all this? University of so-and-so Chair of Physics:Fellow of Royal Society, 1925: ah! here we are: publications:
An Examination of the Atomic Theory, Collected Papers on the Lorentz Transformations, An Examination of Einstein Dynamics
, author of essay on ‘Atoms, structure of,’ in
Encyclopaedia Universalia
, new edition. Well, well, well! nothing about ballistics here, Professor.”
Carruthers laughed, not very comfortably.
“You’re a very thorough man, Mr. Casey.”
“Thorough enough to know, Professor, that Cator & Bliss’s ballistics technician is Major-General Lanceley-Pinton. He used to be in the British army.”
“Interesting, Mr. Casey, but I fail to see …”
“And the Ixanian Government aren’t buying field guns. They placed an order with Skoda three months ago.” He rose to his feet. “I’ll be seeing you, Professor,” he said, and was gone.
Carruthers looked after him down the street with mixed feelings. True, he was now free of Casey’s questioning, but, equally, he had failed to get the information he sought. Besides, his estimate of Casey had convinced him of one thing; that the
Tribune
’s foreign correspondent would not be content to abandon the Professor altogether as a possible source of information. He might even discover his, Carruthers’, impersonation and use the threat of exposure as a lever to secure the story he sought. There was only one aspect of the interview that gave him the least cause for satisfaction. Groom’s boast that he was unknown to the press of the world was, to say the least of it, an exaggeration.
The gentleman in question was already at dinner when Carruthers returned to the hotel. He appeared less preoccupied and a trifle more self-satisfied than at any other time since Rovzidski’s murder. Carruthers seized the opportunity to inquire after his progress.
Groom did not resent the question. “I can understand yourimpatience, Professor. Zovgorod is not an entertaining city. I think I can promise you that I shall soon be in a position to enlist your help. I am in touch with the right people. I shall know within two or three days whether my efforts have been successful or not.”
He hailed with unqualified approval the arrival of the
wiener schnitzel
he had ordered.
“At any rate, Professor,” he said, selecting the German mustard from the tray of condiments held before him, “they do know how
wiener schnitzel
should be cooked. Just a few more capers and thirty seconds less in the oil and it would be perfect. A German cook, thank heaven. Whoever originated the notion that French chefs were the best in the world didn’t know good German cooking.”
He returned reverently to his food. Carruthers ordered a
tyroler rostbraten
and did some quick thinking.
That Groom was in touch with “the right people” probably meant that he had managed to reach someone able and willing, as Rovzidski had been, to surrender vital information in return for a substantial bribe. The implications of this possibility depressed him. Obviously, if so many people were in the position of knowing enough for Groom’s purpose, his own difficulties were enormously increased. It would be harder than ever to prevent manufacture of the Kassen explosive permanently. He could probably hinder Groom’s plans by pretending that any account of the
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