He pressed a buzzer. "Bring Mr. Winter in," he told his secretary.
The man who presently appeared in the doorway was an arresting figure. A man of thirty-odd with the body of an athlete, belied somewhat by the pallor of an indoor worker, with acid stained, delicate hands offset by forearms that might have belonged to a blacksmith, with coal black hair and gray eyes so light as to look like ice-gray holes in the deep caverns of his eye-sockets. This was Thorn Winter.
"Gentlemen, the scientist, Mr. Winter," announced the Secretary. "He thinks he can get the Ziegler plans."
Thorn Winter cleared his throat. "My scheme is simple enough," he said tersely. "I believe I can walk right into the Embassy, get the plans—and then walk right out again. It sounds kind of impossible, but I think I can work it by making myself invisible."
"Invisible?" echoed Forsyte. "Invisible!"
"Precisely," said Thorn in a matter-of-fact tone. "I have just turned out a camouflage which is the most perfect yet discovered. It was designed for application to guns and equipment only. I'd never thought of trying to cover a human body with it, but I am sure it can be done."
"But ... invisible ..." muttered Forsyte, glancing askance at Winter.
"There's no time for argument," said the Secretary crisply. "The question is, shall we give this man permission to try the apparently impossible?"
All heads nodded, though in all eyes was doubt. The Secretary turned to the scientist.