The President stood up and shook my hand in dismissal. "Just go across the street and tell them I sent you," he said. "Good day to you, sir."
The two body-guards closed in on me, so I bowed slightly and withdrew from the President's office.
In the anteroom, I found General Wakely pacing up and down like the father of triplets.
"How did it go, Tompkins?" he asked. "You had five extra minutes. Did you get a chance to give him a fill-in about the Navy and you-know-what?"
I shook my head. "My orders are not to discuss that matter any further, General," I told him.
"But what about Von Bieberstein?" the chief of M.I.D. demanded. "Can you give me a lead?"
"My instructions, General," I said, "are to discuss matters with the State Department."
"The State Department!" Wakely was outraged. "Why, they're nothing but a bunch of Reds! They tell me there are men over there who have spent years in Russia."
"If I am ever allowed to tell you who Von Bieberstein really is," I told the General, "you will understand why I am not allowed to discuss it with you now. This is a matter for the Big Three. It is out of my hands entirely."
At the gate of the White House drive I was suddenly halted by a piercing "Hi!" It was Virginia Rutherford. She dodged her way between two stalwart sentries and took my arm.