Surely this is humbug. Kidnaping is a desperate and dangerous operation. It’s hard to believe that a man committed to it, a man who has incurred its mortal risks, could be in a mood to make a pun-that in choosing an alias to use on the phone, for himself in his role as kidnaper, he would select ‘Knapp.’ It must be flummery. If not, if this thing is straight-forward”-he tapped the paper with a finger-“the man who wrote it is most extraordinary. Is your husband a practical joker?”

“No.” Her chin had jerked up. “Are you saying it’s a joke?”

“I suggested the possibility, but I also suggested an alternative, that you have a remarkable man to deal with. Have you heard from Mr Knapp?”

“Yes. He phoned yesterday afternoon, my listed number. I had told my secretary that I expected the call, and she listened on an extension. I thought she might as well because she opens my mail and she had read that thing.”

“What did he say?”

“He told me what to do. I’m not going to tell you. I’m going to do exactly what he said. I don’t need you for that. What I need you for, I want my husband back. Alive. I know they may have killed him already, I know that, but-” Her chin had started to work, and she pressed her lips together to stop it. She went on, “If they have, then I’ll want you to find them if the police and the FBI don’t. But on the phone yesterday that man said he was all right, and I believe him. I must believe him!”

She was on the edge of the chair. “But don’t kidnapers often kill after they get the money? So they can’t be traced or recognized? Don’t they?”

“That has happened.”

“Yes. That’s what I need you for. Doing what he said, getting the money to them, I’ll do that myself, there’s nothing you can do about that. I’ve told my banker I’m coming to get the money this afternoon, and I’ll do-”