in London. Von Tramp's appearance in a court was far less frequent than in some locked room, some place where work along his peculiar line was waiting to be done. He knew the statutes, but better he knew neat and safe ways to subvert the statutes. Von Tromp had his own code of ethics. Never would he stoop to suborn perjury, for instance; he would arrange matters so that perjury was unnecessary. Not for worlds would he buy a legislative committee, but he was a master at devising circumstances conducive to the picking up of an honest penny on the parts of a committee's several members.
When he had breakfasted Von Tromp strolled out on Main Street and ambled down the row of store fronts. That smile of his which seemed ever trembling to be released rewarded the gaze of the curious. He even made no bones of looking at the numbers on the doors and finally turning in at a door giving on to a flight of stairs over the Boston Store. The landlady of the suite of living rooms there said Original Bill had come in very late the night before and was still sleeping. She pointed out the door of his bedroom. Von Tromp knocked and entered at the bidding from within.
