The whole situation was most provoking and mysterious; the sudden radical change in the iodine shipments, the truculent, insulting letters. Further negotiations by mail were hopeless--someone had to go to France, to the agent in Paris and to the Brittany coast, where the seaweed was gathered and burned. It would be a delicate mission, of course, one that required tact and a certain amount of courage, but no one suspected it of being a dangerous one. . . .

If you are looking for the conventional mystery pattern which starts off with a bizarre crime to be followed by a deluge of foxy...