"I'd like to ask questions about one Harry Forsythe; he's running the Forsythe Carburetor Company in your building on North Clark Street."
The building agent looked cautious. "Is something wrong?"
"Could be," Manning said slowly. "We're investigating him."
"I'm not my brother's keeper, Mr. Manning." The agent laughed, a little hollowly. "You know how it is. We'll rent to almost anybody who comes along. They don't always tell us full details of their business although, believe me, we try to rent to only true Americans."
"We're not chasing commies. This is just a simple case of fraudulent use of the mails. Nothing that will involve you in any way."
The man dabbed at his forehead with a light blue, silk handkerchief. He looked a lot more cheerful.
"We'll be glad to cooperate in any way we can."
Manning helped himself to a cigar from the open box on the desk. "Thanks. You can begin right now. Did Forsythe present any credentials or references when he rented his office?"
"We don't require references or credentials, Mr. Manning. They tell us what business they're in and that's about all we ask them."
"And Forsythe said he was in the manufacturing and sales business, right?"
"Actually a little more than that. He mentioned something about being in the antique business, too."
Manning felt incredulous. "Didn't you think it strange that a whole manufacturing business could fit in an office that was no bigger than this one, let alone an antique business? His carburetor is made of metal; it requires stamping, machining, spraying. A whole factory full of machines would be required!"
"I think I told you that we don't ask them detailed questions, Mr. Manning. In this case it seems obvious that he's using the office only as a sales outlet. Somebody else supplies him with the carburetors."
Manning bit savagely into the end of his cigar.
"I thought of that. I've had his office shadowed for the last week. He's had everything else delivered to him--refrigerators and typewriters and sofas and stoves. But no carburetors."
The agent looked a little smug. "It's a free country, Mr. Manning, he can order what he wants. And if your men didn't see any carburetors, then I would start to worry about their reliability. Forsythe must get his carburetors from somewhere and he must have them delivered."