"No. I never have."

"Have you sent money to him or to anyone or any organization for him-or the cause he represents?"

"No, sir."

"You do make remittances to Europe, don't you?"

"I do." Wolfe grimaced. "From my own funds, earned at my trade. I have contributed to the Loyalists in Spain. I send money occasionally to the-translated, it is the League of Yugoslavian Youth. Prince Stefan Donevitch assuredly has no connexion with that."

"I wouldn't know. What about your wife? Weren't you married?"

"No. Married? No. That was what-" Wolfe stirred, as under restraint, in his chair. "It strikes me, sir, that you are nearing the point where even a grateful American might tell you to go to the devil."

I put in emphatically, "I know damn well I would, and I'm only a sixty-fourth Indian."

The G-man smiled and uncrossed his legs. "I suppose," he said amiably, "you'd have no objection to putting this in the form of a signed document. What you've told me."

"On a proper occasion, none at all."

"Good. You represent no foreign principal, directly or indirectly?"

"That is correct."

"Well, that's all we wanted to know." He got up. "At present. Thank you very much."

"You're quite welcome. Good-day, sir."

I followed him out, to open the front door for America and make sure he was on the proper side of it when it was closed again. Wolfe could get sentimental about it if he wanted to, but I don't like any stranger nosing around my private affairs, let alone a nation of 130 million people. When I returned to the office he was sitting back with his eyes closed.

"You see what happens," I told him bitterly.