Wheeler carefully wrapped the gadget in a chamois and stuffed it back in the box. He cornered another doughnut and sloshed it around in the bottom of his cup. "What did you have in mind?" "I'm curious about Forsythe," Manning said. "I want to know more about him. Who he is, where he comes from, that sort of thing. There might be more to this than just Forsythe, you know. He's just the sales front; I think there's an organization behind him." "You want to be a hero, Fred?" Manning smiled crookedly. "I couldn't think of a better time." "You just never struck me as the type," Wheeler said quietly. Manning felt a little cheap. The private eye type of thing wasn't his line: he was pushing it only because, win, lose or draw, it would make damn little difference to him. * * * * * The building agent was a small, balding man with a taste for two hundred dollar suits and a Michigan Boulevard office. He looked guilty when Manning showed his credentials. "Anything I can do to help you, Mr. Manning--anything at all--just ask me." His forehead looked a little shinier than when Manning had first come in. "I'd like to ask questions about one Harry Forsythe; he's running the Forsythe Carburetor Company in your building on North Clark Street." The building agent looked cautious. "Is something wrong?" "Could be," Manning said slowly. "We're investigating him." "I'm not my brother's keeper, Mr. Manning." The agent laughed, a little hollowly. "You know how it is. We'll rent to almost anybody who comes along. They don't always tell us full details of their business although, believe me, we try to rent to only true Americans." Manning felt tired. "We're not chasing commies. This is just a simple case of fraudulent use of the mails. Nothing that will involve you in any way." The man dabbed at his forehead with a light blue, silk handkerchief. He looked a lot more cheerful. "We'll be glad to cooperate in any way we can." Manning helped himself to a cigar from the open box on the desk. "Thanks. You can begin right now. Did Forsythe present any credentials or references when he rented his office?" The agent held up his hands. "We don't require references or credentials, Mr. Manning. They tell us what business they're in and that's about all we ask them." "And Forsythe said he was in the manufacturing and sales business, right?" "Actually a little more than that. He mentioned something about being in the antique business, too." Manning felt incredulous. "Didn't you think it strange that a whole manufacturing business could fit in an office that was no bigger than this one, let alone an antique business? His carburetor is made of metal; it requires stamping, machining, spraying. A whole factory full of machines would be required!" The agent started to sweat again.