Three to Conquer Read Free

animal is that?"
     
                  "I make surgical and manipulatory instruments so tiny that they can be used to operate on a bacillus."
     
                  "Oh, now, don't give me that ! " said Ledsom. "A fellow couldn't see enough to use them."
     
                  "He can—under a powerful microscope."
     
                  "Every year they think up something new," marvelled Ledsom. "You can't keep up with it."
     
                  "There's nothing new about this," Harper assured. "It started back in 1899, with a Dutchman named Dr. Schouten. Since then, the only considerable improvement on his technique has been gained by de Fonbrune's one-hand pneumatic micromanipulator. I make variations on that gadget, too."
     
                  "You must be kept busy," remarked Ledsom, wondering how many or how few people wanted to dissect a germ.
     
                  "I get by. There aren't more than a couple of dozen competent microforgers in the world. The demand is just enough to keep pace with the supply."
     
                  "So the F.B.I, think they can't afford to lose you?"
     
                  "You're making guesses," said Harper.
     
                  "This bacteriological warfare business, maybe?"
     
                  "You're still guessing."
     
                  "Okay; I know when to mind my own business."
     
                  Ledsom got to work on the official form, put down the witness's name, address and occupation, followed it with a dictated account of what had occurred and shoved it across for the other to read and sign.
     
                  When Harper had gone, Ledsom grabbed the phone, made a long-distance call. He'd just finished talking when Sergeant Forst entered the office and eyed him curiously.
     
                  "Something broken, Cap?"
     
                  "That Harper guy fed me a line that would do credit to the best con man in the business. So I just called his home town to see if he has a record."
     
                  "And he has?"
     
                  "Yes."
     
                  "Jumping Judas ! " said Forst, dropping a couple of books on the desk and making for the door. "I ' ll put out a pick-up call for him."
     
                  "No." Ledsom looked pensive. "His home-town cops send him love and kisses. He's helped them solve several tough cases, and he's shot down three culprits for good measure."
     
                  "What is he, a private dick?"
     
                  "Nothing like that. They say he has a habit of falling headlong over something that everybody else is looking for. They say he's done it time and again, and it's uncanny." He sought for a satisfactory theory, found it and ended, "Reckon he suffers from beginner's luck and makes a hobby of exploiting it."
     
                  If the subject of this conversation had been within half a mile, he'd have picked up that notion and smiled.
     
    -
     
                  Driving at fast pace along the main road, Harper passed through three successive road-blocks without incident. His mind was working as he tooled along. If, he argued, a chased car switched into a side road, the odds would be at least fifty to one on the driver choosing a turn-off on his own side, rather than one across the artery and on the far side.
     
                  Since the loop-road was somewhere ahead of Harper, and on his wrong side, it was very likely that Alderson and the chased car had come from the opposite direction, or towards him.
     
                  He glanced at his watch. It said six-twenty. He had found Alderson at four-ten, a little over two hours ago. That could put the murderers the best part of a hundred miles away, if they'd kept going non-stop. Probably the police