"I don't mean their psychology at all," said the President. "No, wait—yes, I do, in a minor way. They must pursue this thing, no matter what, but—"
A light glimmered, then burned brightly in the President's eyes, and he stood up and smacked his fist into his open palm. "Of course!" he said. "Their methods!"
"Methods?" asked Blake, a little nervously.
The President's reply was interrupted by a knock at the door. The three men exchanged a look; then the Secretary jabbed the button, and Jenkins came in.
"This just came for you, sir," he said, handing the Secretary a small envelope, and making his exit silently.
The President waited impatiently as the envelope was torn open and its contents read. Then the Secretary's hands opened limply and the message fell upon the table.
"Diplomatic note—Russian—Teddy," he whispered.