Chapter 10
Long after he had left, Madame Stahm sat at her writing desk, chin in hand, discussing certain urgent matters with her secretary. She seemed to be impervious to fatigue, and Baumgarten, who was cast in more normal mould, had learned to snatch what sleep he could in the middle of the day, in preparation for these midnight and early morning conferences.
"We are so near to everything, it is madness," he said, for the fourth time.
"Inspiration will come," said the other. "And then..."
"This doctor—what will you do with him?"
"Dr Mainford?" She shrugged her lean shoulders. "I don't know. If he is troublesome—" She did not complete the sentence.
"You must find another method." Baumgarten was firm on this. "This doctor is not like the others. He has friends; he knows the police s
