"Mohammedan!" he exclaimed, possibly more outraged by that than by his original suspicion of polygamy.
"The Koran allows us four wives, Mr. Truggles. The rest must be concubines."
"You admit it! You admit that your so-called research is only a blind for a den of iniquity!"
Forsythe rose, and stepped from behind his desk. Suddenly alarmed, Truggles cringed. Forsythe was a very big man. Truggles' fingers strayed toward the shoulder holster. But Forsythe smiled.
"The research is genuine," he said. "Come with me, Mr. Truggles. I'd like for you to meet several of my wives. You may ask them questions if you wish."
He took the nervous Truggles firmly by the arm, lifted him almost bodily from his chair and escorted him into the anteroom. The pretty secretary looked up from her desk.
"Mr. Truggles, this is Trella, my youngest wife," said Forsythe. "Fortunately, she has had secretarial training, so she fits well in this office."
The young woman smiled at Truggles, without embarrassment. He was not so fortunate. He dropped his eyes, the deep blue eyes that had so often been the nemesis of evil-doers.
"You said I might question the—the young lady?" he murmured.
Forsythe laughed.