“The trouble is,” Mr. Wading explained to Mr. Scherer, “that there is no law in the various states with a sufficient penalty attached that will compel the witness to divulge facts he wishes to conceal.” It was the middle of a February afternoon, and they were seated in deep, leather chairs in one corner of the reading room of the Boyne Club. They had the place to themselves. Fowndes was there also, one leg twisted around the other in familiar fashion, a bored look on his long and sallow face. Mr. Wading had telephoned to the office for me to bring them some papers bearing on the case. “Sit down, Hugh,” he said kindly. “Now we have present a genuine legal mind,” said Mr. Scherer, in the playful manner he had adopted of late, while I grinned appreciatively and took a chair. Mr. Watling presently suggested kidnapping the Ribblevale treasurer until he should promise to produce the books as the only way out of what seemed an impasse. But Mr. Scherer brought down a huge fist on his knee. “I tell you it is no joke, Watling, we've got to win that suit,” he asserted. “That's all very well,” replied Mr. Watling. “But we're a respectable firm, you know. We haven't had to resort to safe-blowing, as yet.” Mr. Scherer shrugged his shoulders, as much as to say it were a matter of indifference to him what methods were resorted to. Mr. Watling's eyes met mine; his glance was amused, yet I thought I read in it a query as to the advisability, in my presence, of going too deeply into the question of ways and means. I may have been wrong. At any rate, its sudden effect was to embolden me to give voice to an idea that had begun to simmer in my mind, that excited me, and yet I had feared to utter it. This look of my chief's, and the lighter tone the conversation had taken decided me. “Why wouldn't it be possible to draw up a bill to fit the situation?” I inquired. Mr. Wading started. “What do you mean?” he asked quickly. All three looked at me. I felt the blood come into my face, but it was too late to draw back. “Well--the legislature is in session. And since, as Mr. Watling says, there is no sufficient penalty in other states to compel the witness to produce the information desired, why not draw up a bill and--and have it passed--” I paused for breath--“imposing a sufficient penalty on home corporations in the event of such evasions. The Ribblevale Steel Company is a home corporation.” I had shot my bolt.... There followed what was for me an anxious silence, while the three of them continued to stare at me. Mr. Watling put the tips of his fingers together, and I became aware that he was not offended, that he was thinking rapidly. “By George, why not, Fowndes?” he demanded. “Well,” said Fowndes, “there's an element of risk in such a proceeding I need not dwell upon.”