"Neither. He's a highly trained and competent social student. You couldn't expect him to be either," Williams observed. "But I happen to know that he hasn't got any money to speak of, so for a consideration I'm sure he'll spill everything he knows, if anything."
"Well, its a gamble," said Gay, doubtfully, "but any port in a storm."
Williams left Washington immediately for Richmond. That night he sat in a cramped little room of the former champion of the darker races.
"What are you doing down there, Beard?" asked Williams, referring to the headquarters of the Anglo-Saxon Association.
"Oh, I'm getting, or helping to get, that data of Buggerie's into shape."
"What data? You told me you were doing research work. Now you say you're arranging data. Have they finished collecting it?"
"Yes, we finished that job some time ago. Now we're trying to get the material in shape for easy digestion."
"What do you mean: easy digestion?" queried Williams. "What are you fellows trying to find out and why must it be so easily digested. You fellows usually try to make your stuff unintelligible to the herd."
"This is different," said Beard, lowering his voice to almost a whisper. "We're under a pledge of secrecy. We have been investigating the family trees of the nation and so far, believe me, we certainly have uncovered astounding facts. When I'm finally discharged, which will probably be after election, I'm going to peddle some of that information. Snobbcraft and even Buggerie are not aware of the inflammatory character of the facts we've assembled." He narrowed his foxy eyes greedily.
"Is it because they've been planning to release some of it that they want it in easily digestible form, as you say?" pressed Williams.