“You think that it will have a good effect upon your friends in Washington?”
“Me?” Mr. Coulson asked. “I know nothing about it. I’ve given you my personal opinion only. Seems to me, though, it’s the best way of showing that you’re in earnest.”
“Before we quit this subject finally, Mr. Coulson,” Sir Edward said, “I am going to ask you a question which you have been asked before.”
“Referring to Hamilton Fynes?” Mr. Coulson asked.
“Yes!”
“Get your young man to lay his hand on that copy of the Comet,” Mr. Coulson begged earnestly. “I told that pushing young journalist all I knew and a bit more. I assure you, my information isn’t worth anything.”
“Was it meant to be worth anything?” Sir Edward asked.
Mr. Coulson remained imperturbable.
“If you don’t mind, Sir Edward,” he said, “I guess we’ll drop the subject of Mr. Hamilton Fynes. We can’t get any forwarder. Let it go at that.”
There was a knock at the door. Sir Edward’s secretary ushered in a tall, plainly dressed gentleman, who had the slightly aggrieved air of a man who has been kept out of his bed beyond the usual time.