"Think nothing of it," Manning said cynically. "But if you're so grateful, how about telling me what this is all about? Who manufactures your goods, who's behind you?" Forsythe shook his head. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you, Manning. And I can't tell you." "That makes a lot of sense," Manning said sourly. He started for the door. "I'm going to send the cops back to watch this place. It might be a good idea to take you into protective custody, too." Forsythe smiled faintly. "Before you leave, Manning, I'd like to give you something." He shoved a package into Manning's hands. "Take this as a gift." Manning slipped the small package into his pocket. "You shouldn't have done that," he said tightly. "Don't you know what the penalties are for bribing an agent of the government?" Forsythe looked hurt. "But this isn't a bribe, Manning." Manning laughed curtly. "Tell it to a court." * * * * * He slept late the next morning. He opened the package after breakfast. When he did, his face grew white and his hands trembled slightly. Forsythe had somehow guessed. And rubbed it in. He looked at the small bottle closely and held it up to the light. There wasn't any such thing, of course, no matter how hard he wished there was. It was sheer quackery. A laboratory analysis would reveal a bottle of sugar water. There wasn't any doubt but what Forsythe was trying to peddle it, along with his fountain pens and carburetors. Exhibit A against the Forsythe Company, he thought. He crossed over to the telephone stand by the window. It was raining out, a summer thunder shower where the clouds boiled black against the sky and the rain beat against the glass with a hundred hands, trying to force its way inside. A dull and gloomy day that went well with the way he felt. He dialed Wheeler. "Ray? How's Forsythe?" Wheeler's voice was dry. "_I don't know, Fred. His office is cleaned out. He's disappeared. He was gone by the time the cops got to his office last night._" They would have to do the leg work all over again, Manning thought slowly. But it shouldn't be hard to do. Pitchmen always stayed in the same business, even if they had to get a different tent occasionally. "What about the carburetor?" Wheeler laughed a little bitterly. "_I gave it to the kid to install in the car. He did. Claimed it actually ran on water, but that's something we'll never know for sure. Kid was in an accident this morning. Nothing happened to him but the whole engine block is demolished. So's the carburetor._" But Wheeler's son had claimed it actually worked, Manning thought chaotically. That it was the real McCoy. And Jeff at the cigar store had claimed the pens had actually worked, too.