Manning slipped the small package into his pocket. "You shouldn't have done that," he said tightly. "Don't you know what the penalties are for bribing an agent of the government?"
Forsythe looked hurt. "But this isn't a bribe, Manning."
Manning laughed curtly. "Tell it to a court."
He slept late the next morning. He opened the package after breakfast. When he did, his face grew white and his hands trembled slightly. Forsythe had somehow guessed. And rubbed it in.
He looked at the small bottle closely and held it up to the light. There wasn't any such thing, of course, no matter how hard he wished there was. It was sheer quackery. A laboratory analysis would reveal a bottle of sugar water. There wasn't any doubt but what Forsythe was trying to peddle it, along with his fountain pens and carburetors. Exhibit A against the Forsythe Company, he thought.
He crossed over to the telephone stand by the window. It was raining out, a summer thunder shower where the clouds boiled black against the sky and the rain beat against the glass with a hundred hands, trying to force its way inside. A dull and gloomy day that went well with the way he felt.
He dialed Wheeler.
"Ray? How's Forsythe?"
Wheeler's voice was dry.