He entered Breede's room with his accustomed air of quiet service. Breede did not glance at him. He began, as usual, to dictate before Bean was seated. "Letter T.J. Williams 'sistant sup'ntendent M.P. 'n' C. department C. 'n' L.M. rai'way Sh'-kawgo dear sir please note 'closed schej'l car 'pairin' make two copies send one don't take that an' let me have at y'r earles c'nvenience--" Apparently nothing at all had happened. He was at his old post, and Breede did nothing but explode fragments of words as ever. No talk of jail or betrayal of trust or of his morning's flagrant absence. One might have thought that Breede himself played the waiting game. Or perhaps Breede only toyed with him. He fastened his gaze on the criminal cuffs. They were his rock of refuge in any cataclysm that might impend. If only he could keep those cuffs within his range of vision he would fear nothing. Patent laundry tubs; five dollars saved; why your husband failed in business; bright and interesting future-- "'Lo! 'Lo!" Breede was detonating into the desk-telephone which had sounded at his elbow. "'Lo! Well? What? Run off! Stop nonsense! Busy!" He hung up the receiver. "--also mus' be stipulated that case of div'dend bein' passed--" The desk telephone again rang, this time more emphatically. Bean was chilled by a premonition that the flapper meant to pull off that funny stunt which was to cause him quite deliciously to die laughing. Breede grasped the receiver again impatiently. "Busy, tell you! No time nonsense! What! _What_. W-H-A-T!!!" He listened another moment, then lessening his tone-production but losing nothing of intensity, he ripped out: "_Gur--reat Godfrey!_" His eyes, narrowed as he listened, now widened upon Bean who stared determinedly at the cuffs. "You know what she _says_?" "Yes," said Bean doggedly. Then his eyes met Breede's and gave them blaze for blaze. The Great Reorganizer knew it not, but he no longer looked at Bunker Bean. Instead, he was trying to shrivel with his glare a veritable king of old Egypt who had enjoyed the power of life and death over his remotest subject. Bean did not shrivel. Breede glared his deadliest only a moment. He felt the sway of the great Ram-tah without identifying it. He divined that mere glaring would not shrivel this presumptuous atom. In truth, Bean outglared him. Breede leaned again to the telephone, listening. Bean lowered his eyes to the cuffs. He sneered at them now. The intention of the lifted upper lip was too palpable. "Gur-reat stars above!" murmured Breede. "She says she's got it all reasoned out!" There was something almost plaintive in his tones; he shuddered. Then he rallied bravely once more. "Tell you, no time nonsense. Busy." But he seemed to know he was beaten. He listened again, then wilted. "What next?" he demanded of Bean. "Ask _her_!" "Nice mess you got _me_ into!" Bean sneered resolutely at the cuffs. Again the telephone tinkled.