“Oh, yes.” It went against the grain for Saul Hartz to believe that Wygram spoke the truth, but tone and manner overrode all doubt. He was piqued by the discovery. For once, that proud creation of his own, the U. P. secret service, was at fault. It was far from pleasing to the Colossus that persons there were in the realm so much better informed than himself. One fact clearly emerged. Report, for once, had not overpainted 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. “Do you think you can help me?” Wygram shook his head. “No,” he said. “This is a matter in which one person only can help you. That person is yourself.” Such an answer was eminently unpleasant to Saul Hartz. His voice grew harsh and domineering. “I don’t intend to let myself be intimidated by any sort of mumbo jumbo--if that is what you mean.” “William Garland used almost those identical words in this room less than a week ago.” The Colossus, in spite of the fact that Wygram’s piercing black eyes were fixed upon his face, could not repress a shiver. “Won’t you tell me,” he said in a lower tone, “exactly what you are able to deduce from this letter and this envelope?” Wygram pondered. “At this stage,” he said slowly, “it would be premature, it would serve no purpose, and perhaps it might be unkind.” “Trying to give me cold feet, eh?” The voice of the Colossus again grew harsh. “That is what I want to avoid. At the same time, if you value your life, don’t make Garland’s mistake.” “What was Garland’s mistake?” “He defied the Council of Seven.” Saul Hartz lifted an imperious chin. “What exactly do you mean by that?”