t
was distributed to Rio de Janeiro, New York, and London.

The Assistant Chief of the P.V. Department came out of his room and
drifted aimlessly into the uncomfortable bureau of Mr. McNorton.

"There's a curious yarn through from Cracow," he said, "which might
interest your friend Beale."

"What is it?" asked McNorton, who invariably found the stories of the
P.V. Department fascinating but profitless.

"A man was murdered," said the P.V. man lightly, as though that were the
least important feature of the story, "but before he pegged out he made
a will or an assignment of his property to his son, in the course of
which he said that none of his stocks--he was a corn factor--were to be
sold under one thousand Kronen a bushel. That's about L30."

"Corn at L30 a bushel?" said McNorton. "Was he delirious?"

"Not at all," said the other. "He was a very well-known man in Cracow,
one Zibowski, who during the late war was principal buying agent for the
German Government. The Chief of the Police at Cracow apparently asked
him if he wasn't suffering from illusions, and the man then made a
statement that the German Government had an option on all the grain in
Galicia, Hungary and the Ukraine at a lower price. Zibowski held out for
better terms. It is believed that he was working with a member of the
German Government who made a fortune in the war out of army contracts.
In fact, he as good as let this out just before he died, when he spoke
in his delirium of a wonderful invention which was being worked on
behalf of the German Government, an invention called the Green Rust."

McNorton whistled.

"Is that all?" he said.

"That's all," said the P.V. man. "I seem to remember that Beale had made
one or two mysterious references to the Rust. Where is he now?"

"He left town last night," replied McNorton.

"Can you get in touch with him?"

The other shook his head.

"I suppose you are sending on a copy of this communication to the
Cabinet," he said--"it may be rather serious. Whatever the scheme is, it
is being worked in London, and van Heerden is the chief operator."

He took down his hat and went out in search of Kitson, whom he found in
the lobby of the hotel. James Kitson came toward him eagerly.

"Have you news of Beale?"

"He was at Kingston this morning," said McNorton, "with Parson Homo, but
he had left. I was on the 'phone to the inspector at Kingston, who did
not know very much and could give me no very definit