with smashed roots and broken branches. All round fragments of a man's
body blown to pieces. That's all. The rest's mere newspaper gup. No
doubt a wicked attempt to blow up the Observatory, they say. H'm. That's
hardly credible."

He looked at the paper for a while longer in silence, then passed it to
the other, who after gazing abstractedly at the print laid it down
without comment.

It was Ossipon who spoke first--still resentful.

"The fragments of only _one_ man, you note. Ergo: blew _himself_ up.
That spoils your day off for you--don't it? Were you expecting that sort
of move? I hadn't the slightest idea--not the ghost of a notion of
anything of the sort being planned to come off here--in this country.
Under the present circumstances it's nothing short of criminal."

The little man lifted his thin black eyebrows with dispassionate scorn.

"Criminal! What is that? What is crime? What can be the meaning of
such an assertion?"

"How am I to express myself? One must use the current words," said
Ossipon impatiently. "The meaning of this assertion is that this
business may affect our position very adversely in this country. Isn't
that crime enough for you? I am convinced you have been giving away some
of your stuff lately."

Ossipon stared hard. The other, without flinching, lowered and raised
his head slowly.