One fact clearly emerged. Report, for once, had not over-painted the attainments of this man Wygram. How to make use of them was the problem for his visitor. The man was determined to lock away his knowledge. It was plain that he set more store by the police than by the U. P. But the Colossus had made up his mind already that so valuable an ally must be lured on to his own side.
With that end in view, Mr. Hartz produced at this point the Society's letter with its sinister black seal and mourning border.
He handed it to the man on the ground.
Wygram read the letter. Then he held it up to the light, also its envelope. His next act was to pass his fingers delicately over the surface of both.
"May I tear a little off?"
Permission was readily given for him to do so.
"Chinese," was Wygram's comment as he rubbed a small piece between his thumb and first finger. "It doesn't mean very much." Wygram negligently tossed two or three tiny fragments on to the carpet. "However, it serves to confirm a theory which is not going to mean very much either, but is certainly a sidelight on a most unpleasant affair."
"I hope you'll be as explicit as you can." Saul Hartz was now betraying a little anxiety. "It may be that I have something at stake."
"You have a good deal at stake." Wygram was not one to temper the wind to the shorn lamb.
