“Sell him some winter underwear?”
“Less promising schemes have succeeded,” said Hambledon. “Some brain-wave may flood our minds presently. Anything else?”
“I met a long lad named Denton who is coming to Mainz. Authority thought it might be useful if we knew each other. He has been in Germany quite recently, at Lübeck, I believe.”
“What’s the matter?” asked Hambledon, watching Bill’s face.
“Oh, nothing. Only he, or his little lot, found the real professor of the cholera scheme—if life were more like the books we should call it the C. Plan, shouldn’t we?”
“Please go on,” said Hambledon, and Bill told him. Hambledon listened without interruption, then “Amtenbrink, God rest his soul,” he said, lifted his glass, made a little sign with it, and drank.
“Another mistake on my part,” he went
