rybody."

"You haven't the faintest idea what you mean," Malone said. "Mess is
hardly the word."

Boyd snorted. "You go on getting yourself confused," he said, "while
some of us do the real work. After all--"

"Never mind the insults," Malone said. "How about the spies?"

"Well," Boyd said, a trifle reluctantly, "they've been working as
janitors and maintenance men, and of course we've made sure they
haven't been able to get their hands on any really valuable
information."

"So they've suddenly turned into criminal masterminds," Malone said.
"After being under careful surveillance for years."

"Well, it's possible," Boyd said defensively.

"Almost anything is possible," Malone said.

"Some things," Boyd said carefully, "are more possible than others."

"Thank you, Charles W. Aristotle," Malone said. "I hope you realize
what you've done, picking up those three men. We might have been able
to get some good lines on them, if you'd left them where they were."

There is an old story about a general who went on an inspection tour
of the front during World War I, and, putting his head incautiously up
out of a trench, was narrowly missed by a sniper's bullet. He turned
to a nearby sergeant and bellowed: "Get that sniper!"

"Oh, we've got him spotted, sir," the sergeant said. "He's been there
for six days now."

"Well, then," the general said, "why don't you blast him out of
there?"

"Well, sir, it's this way," the sergeant explained. "He's fired about
sixty rounds since he's been out there, and he hasn't hit anything
yet. We're afraid if we get rid of him they'll put up somebody who
_can_ shoot."

This was standard FBI policy when dealing with minor spies. A great
many had been spotted, including four in the Department of Fisheries.
But known spies are easier to keep track of than unknown ones. And, as
long as they're allowed to think they haven't been spotted, they may
lead the way to other spies or spy networks.

"I thought it was worth the risk," Boyd said. "After all, if they have
something to do with the case--"

"But they don't," Malone said.

"Damn it," Boyd exploded, "let me find out for myself, will you?
You're spoiling all the fun."

"Well, anyhow," Malone said, "they don't."

"You can't afford to take any chances," Boyd said. "After all, when I
think about William Logan, I tell myself we'd better take care of
every lead."

"Well," Malone said finally, "you may be right. And then again, you