"By the time you see this chances are excellent that I shall be dead. However, that is of little importance. I have found the proof we need--their distribution plant. It's an old warehouse. I am going there to see if I cannot obtain concrete proof--perhaps a pocketful of tokens. If I fail, you must carry on. Farewell, professor. It was a privilege knowing you." Beneath the message was an address which I recognized as being in one of the less reputable sections of the city. There was no signature. What to do! What to do! I no longer doubted the truth of little Mr. Rumplestein-O'Grady's story. But what to do about it? I considered going to the warehouse, but the thought of high adventure sends nothing but ennui coursing through my veins. Besides, there was undoubtedly some element of danger in that course. The police! Naturally! They would know how to deal with this situation and perhaps even avenge poor Mr. Rumplestein's death. Filled with righteous anger and indignation I hurried out and went to the nearest police station. In retrospect I can understand the reaction of the desk sergeant to my wild-eyed claim that the city was in imminent danger of invasion and he must do something about it at once! "How much, now, have ye had to drink?" he asked calmly. When I swore that I was as sober as he, he grew purple with rage and threatened to have me thrown into jail for insulting a police officer unless I disappeared immediately. All that night and the next day I tried to reach someone in authority with my information. The New York City police were admirably calm about my information. My actions and voice, however, seemed to disturb them greatly. When I insisted they investigate the warehouse, they told me the officer on the beat would do so in good time. When I suggested they examine the tokens found on the body they informed me that these had been turned over to the Property Clerk and if not claimed within ninety days would be given to the PAL. As a last desperate measure I went to the New York office of the Federal Bureau of Investigation and presented myself to one of the Federal men. I told him my story. He looked at me calmly, then pored through a thick book on his desk. He closed one eye thoughtfully and peered at me through the other. "There's really nothing," he said, "that we can do about it." "Don't you believe me?" "That has nothing to do with it. According to regulations this is strictly a municipal affair. It doesn't come within the jurisdiction of the FBI. And we wouldn't want to step on municipal toes." He closed the book smartly. I was crushed. I couldn't believe it. Finally I said, "_Serum est cavendi tempus in mediis malis!_" "What?" "'It is too late to be cautious when in the very midst of dangers.' Seneca said that two thousand years ago." The young man rose and nodded towards the door. "Good day, professor. And an _E pluribus unum_ to you!" That was an hour ago. * * * * *