“You guessed it,” replied the secret-service man. “I’m working on these anti-Fascist operations. It looks pretty much like this case fits in.”
“No doubt about it,” declared Cardona. “There’s only one hitch—”
“The method?”
Cardona nodded.
“Bombs and stilettos are in their line,” he said. “This poison business is a new wrinkle.”
“Not exactly new,” observed the secret-service man.
“No?” came the surprised reply.
“Italy,” said Blake, “was famous for the Medicis. I’ve seen the survival of some of their subtle poisons. The art has faded, but it is not dead—”
“I can’t see the connection,” declared Cardona. “Any knowledge of poisons in Italy would belong to members of the aristocracy, some of whom still have criminal leanings. But the anti-Fascists are a Communistic group—”
“You think so?” interrupted the secret-service man, with a thin, slow smile. “You should pay a visit to Rome. You would find it different from New York. In Rome, the Fascisti are a middle group, hated by the Communists and secretly despised by the aristocracy. The activities against the Fascisti are not confined to the lower classes.”