A lull had fallen on the affairs of the Criminology Club. To its members, always on the alert to stamp out the first fires of intrigue before they spread their destroying flames over the peace of the country, the lull brought no illusions. They recognized it simply as the lull before another storm.
It was the day of Fay's second visit to Von Papen's office. Pat Hennessy, doorman at the Criminology Club, had just announced a visitor and shown him into Harrison Grant's office.
Grant surveyed his visitor quizzically.
"My name is Wettig, C.L. Wettig. I am a dealer in explosives," he announced simply.
Grant nodded and motioned him to a chair.
"I have something which I think will be of interest to you. I have been asked to procure for certain parties a quantity of T.N.T. You are of course acquainted with the nature of this explosive and the use it is commonly put to?"
A gleam of interest shone in Grant's eyes. "Trinitrate of Toluol? Yes."
Wettig wasted no time in words. He told his story briefly.
"I have, in fact, been approached by several people recently, all of whom seemed particularly interested in obtaining some of it. I thought it best to go ahead with the deal in an effort to gain all the information possible concerning the persons who wanted it. Now, however, something has happened which brings me to the need of advice. Today I was told to deliver the T.N.T. as soon as I could get it to a garage in Weehawken. Shortly after I was told that the purchaser had changed his address. I'm afraid he has slipped through my hands."
He surveyed Grant somewhat anxiously but appeared reassured by Grant's decision. "No, I think he is probably playing safe. You will undoubtedly hear from him in a day or so. Let me know when you do."