“He did.” The answer seemed a little reluctant.
“Sought your help and advice?”
“Ye-es.”
“Sought the help you couldn’t give?” The words were almost a sneer. “But no doubt you were able to offer advice that he was not in a position to follow.”
Wygram laughed softly. “That is so, Mr. Hartz. But if you hold these a priori ideas in regard to my abilities why do you come to me yourself?”
“It doesn’t follow that I’ve come to consult you. Howbeit, there is no harm in saying that I have. But one hardly goes so far as to look for material assistance from you.”
“In your dealings with the Society?”
The uncompromising question rather took Saul Hartz aback. “I didn’t say so,” he fenced. “We were discussing Garland. You say that Garland came to you for advice. May I ask what advice you gave him?”
The answer did not come at once. Wygram drew solemnly at his tchibouk. After a silence of several moments he said with a cool picking of words, “Since Garland didn’t choose to follow the advice I gave, it may not be very profitable to disclose it—particularly as I was out of sympathy with the man himself.”
“You offered advice all the same.”