time, I expected a certain breeziness. instead, he was almost solemn.

"I owe you an apology," he said in a careful voice after

{p. 46}

we'd ordered. "You probably know I'm a syndicate writer?"

I wondered if he'd found out Jack Daly was checking on him.

"When you mentioned the Press Club," I said, "I gathered you were in
the business."

"I'm afraid you thought I was fishing for a lead." Steele looked at me
earnestly. "I'm not working on the story--I'm tied up on other stuff."

"Forget it," I told him.

He seemed anxious to reassure me. "I'd been worried for some time
about the saucers. I called you that night on an impulse."

"Glad you did," I said. "I need every tip I can get."

"Did it help you any?"

"Yes, though it still doesn't fit together. But I can tell you this:
The saucers are real, or at least one of them."

"Which one?"