“You’re getting hard to find,” Boyd said. “I think you’re letting fame and fortune go to your head.” “I left word at the office that I was coming here,” Malone said aggrievedly. “Sure you did,” Boyd said. “How do you think I found you? Am I telepathic? Do I have strange powers?” “Wouldn’t surprise me in the least,” Malone said. “Now, about those spies—” “See what I mean?” Boyd said. “How did you know?” “Just lucky, I guess,” Malone murmured. “But what about them?” “Well,” Boyd said, “we picked up two men working in the Senate Office Building, and another one working for the State Department.” “And they are spies?” Malone said. “Real spies?” “Oh, they’re real enough,” Boyd said. “We’ve known about ’em for years, and I finally decided to pick them up for questioning. God knows, but maybe they have something to do with all this mess that’s bothering everybody.” “You haven’t the faintest idea what you mean,” Malone said. “Mess is hardly the word.” Boyd snorted. “You go on getting yourself confused,” he said, “while some of us do the real work. After all—” “Never mind the insults,” Malone said. “How about the spies?” “Well,” Boyd said, a trifle reluctantly, “they’ve been working as janitors and maintenance men, and of course we’ve made sure they haven’t been able to get their hands on any really valuable information.” “So they’ve suddenly turned into criminal masterminds,” Malone said. “After being under careful surveillance for years.” “Well, it’s possible,” Boyd said defensively. “Almost anything is possible,” Malone said. “Some things,” Boyd said carefully, “are more possible than others.” “Thank you, Charles W. Aristotle,” Malone said. “I hope you realize what you’ve done, picking up those three men. We might have been able to get some good lines on them, if you’d left them where they were.” There is an old story about a general who went on an inspection tour of the front during World War I, and, putting his head incautiously up out of a trench, was narrowly missed by a sniper’s bullet. He turned to a nearby sergeant and bellowed: “Get that sniper!” “Oh, we’ve got him spotted, sir,” the sergeant said. “He’s been there for six days now.” “Well, then,” the general said, “why don’t you blast him out of there?” “Well, sir, it’s this way,” the sergeant explained. “He’s fired about sixty rounds since he’s been out there, and he hasn’t hit anything yet. We’re afraid if we get rid of him they’ll put up somebody who _can_ shoot.” This was standard FBI policy when dealing with minor spies. A great many had been spotted, including four in the Department of Fisheries. But known spies are easier to keep track of than unknown ones. And, as long as they’re allowed to think they haven’t been spotted, they may lead the way to other spies or spy networks. “I thought it was worth the risk,” Boyd said. “After all, if they have something to do with the case—” “But they don’t,” Malone said.