"It would have finished his
political career."
The Assistant Commissioner looked politely puzzled.
"It was generally supposed that Sir Brian Malpas was addicted to
drugs," he remarked; "and I am not surprised to learn that he
patronised this syndicate to which you refer. But----" he paused,
smiling satanically. "Ah!" he added--"I see! I see!"
"You perceive the drift of my argument?" cried Max. "You grasp what I
mean when I say that we were too hasty? This syndicate existed for a
more terrible purpose than the promulgating of a Chinese vice; it had
in its clutches men entrusted with national secrets, men of genius but
slaves of a horrible drug. Under the influence of that drug, my
friends, how many of those secrets may they not have divulged?"
His words were received in hushed silence.
"What became of those stolen plans?" he continued, speaking now in a
very low voice. "In the stress of recent years has the Haley torpedo
made its appearance so that we might learn to which Government the
plans had been taken? No! the same mystery surrounds the fate of the
information filched from the drugged brain of 'M. Blank.' In a word"--
he raised a finger dramatically--"someone is hoarding up those
instruments of destruction! Who is it that collects such things and
for what purpose does he collect them?"
Following another tense moment of silence:
"Let us have your own theory, M. Max," said the Assistant Commissioner.
Gaston Max shrugged his shoulders.
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