They shook hands. Mr. Higgins pointed to a chair with his pipe stem and said, smiling faintly, “What’s on your mind, Duff?” The younger man stared. “You know—”
“Checked, sure. After your call. Registrar. Got everything from your nickname to your lack of an athletic record. Tell you so you can skip it.”
Duff sat silent, flushing a little. “Well, it begins with where I board. Did you check that?”
Higgins laughed. “Address is all. Shoot!”
Duff was embarrassed about the start of his story, since it involved curiosity and his unethical behavior. So he decided to give weight to his words immediately. “I have found a stolen part of what is plainly an atomic bomb.”
Mr. Higgins did look at him sharply. But that was all. No exclamation. No excitement. “Okay. Start where it starts. Take your time.”
The G-man was a good listener — putting in questions only when the narrative confused him or left a gap.
“I had to wait,” Duff wound up, “until yesterday, to get a good chance to run the tests.
They checked, all right. It was uranium. Uranium 235, I am sure. High neutron emission—”
“You can skip the technical part. That isn’t for me. I’m a lawyer. An accountant. You sure?”