Mr. Grimm received the blow without a tremor.  His hands were still idly clasped behind his back; the eyes fastened upon the president’s face were still listless; the mouth absolutely without expression.

“As Mr. Grimm has pointed out,” the secretary went on, “we have been negotiating for this wireless percussion cap.  I have somewhere in my office the name and address of the individual with whom these negotiations have been conducted.  Through that it is possible to reach the inventor, and then—!  I suggest that we vote our thanks to Mr. Grimm and relieve him of this particular case.”

The choleric eyes of the president softened a little, and grew grave as they studied the impassive face of the young man.

“It’s a strange situation, Mr. Grimm,” he said evenly.  “What do you say to withdrawing?”

“I am at your orders, Mr. President,” was the reply.

“No one knows better what you have done than the gentlemen here at this table,” the president went on slowly.  “No one questions that you have done more than any other man could have done under the circumstances.  We understand, I think, that indirectly you are asking immunity for an individual.  I don’t happen to know the liability of that individual under our law, but we can’t make any mistake now, Mr. Grimm, and so—­and so—­” He stopped and was silent.

“I had hoped, Mr. President, that what I have done so far—­and I don’t underestimate it—­would have, at least, earned for me the privilege of remaining in this case until its conclusion,” said Mr. Grimm steadily.  “If it is to be otherwise, of course I am at—­”

“History tells us, Mr. Grimm,” interrupted the president irrelevantly, “that the frou-frou of a woman’s skirt has changed the map of the world.  Do you believe,” he went on suddenly, “that a man can mete out justice fairly, severely if necessary, to one for whom he has a personal regard?”

“I do, sir.”

“Perhaps even to one—­to a woman whom he might love?”

“I do, sir.”

The president rose.

“Please wait in the anteroom for a few minutes,” he directed.

Mr. Grimm bowed himself out.  At the end of half an hour he was again summoned into the cabinet chamber.  The president met him with outstretched hand.  There was more than mere perfunctory thanks in this—­there was the understanding of man and man.

“You will proceed with the case to the end, Mr. Grimm,” he instructed abruptly.  “If you need assistance ask for it; if not, proceed alone.  You will rely upon your own judgment entirely.  If there are circumstances which make it inadvisable to move against an individual by legal process, even if that individual is amenable to our laws, you are not constrained so to do if your judgment is against it.  There is one stipulation:  You will either secure the complete rights of the wireless percussion cap to this government or learn the secret of the invention so that at no future time can we be endangered by it.”