“Not much. He’s just my dad––and one of the world’s finest and cleverest.”
“Will he listen to reason? Can he perform delicate operations?”
“He’s my dad, Bentley, and he’d do almost anything I asked him so long as it was honest ... and he could switch the noses of a mosquito and a humming bird so skillfully that the humming bird would go looking for a sleeping cop and the mosquito would start building a nest in a tree.”
“Get him here. No––has he an operating room where all sound can be shut out? I’ve got a hunch I’d like somehow to try and drop a screen around us as we work. Maybe your dad would know what to do. You see, I’m positive that Barter sees everything we do and if he sees me turning into an ape he would just chuckle and pass up the trap.”
“He’s got a lead armored room where he keeps a bit of radium.”
“That’s it. Talk to him. No, not on the phone. You’ll have to figure out some way to do it so that you can be sure Barter isn’t listening.”
“I’ll manage. I’ll send him a note.”
“Your messenger will be killed on the way to him.”
“Then I’ll go myself.”
“And Barter will watch everybody that goes into his office or comes out, and mark down each person as possibly being connected with the police. However, you figure it out.”