He nodded, and an expression of anxiety came over his face.
"Good," I exclaimed. "Now listen to what I have to say. Before the week is out your wife will be cured. I swear it."
He said nothing. It was plain that he was still suspicious.
"You read what they say in the papers about the Blue Disease cutting short other diseases? Well, that Blue Disease will be all over London in a day or two. Now do you understand?"
I saw that I had interested him. He settled himself on his chair, and began to examine me. His gaze travelled over my face and clothes, pausing at my cuff-links and my tie and collar. Then he looked at my card again. Inwardly he came to a decision.
"I'm willing to listen to what you've got to say," he remarked, "if you think it's worth saying."
"Thank you. I think it's worth hearing." I leaned my arms on the table in front of me. "This Blue Disease is not an accidental thing. It was deliberately planned, by two scientists. I was one of those scientists."
"You can't plan a disease," he remarked, after a considerable silence.
"You're wrong. We found a way of creating new germs. We worked at the idea of creating a particular kind of germ that would kill all other germs ... and we were successful. Then we let loose the germ on the world."
"How?"