“Oh,” the young man remarked, looking about the office. Near the stenographer’s desk was a door partly open, which led into an inner room. In the farther corner of this room could be seen the projecting corner of a steel safe. This Brainard felt must be his goal, and he unconsciously stepped toward the door of the inner office. The woman rose as if to bar his further progress and snapped irritably: “What do you want here?” “Why, I just want to talk to you,” he replied as amiably as he could. “Cut it short then, young man. I haven’t any time to waste in conversazione.” “You don’t seem very busy!” Brainard observed smiling. “I’m always busy to strangers, little one—I do my day-dreaming outside of office hours.” She thrust the metal cover on her machine with a clatter. “See?” “Oh, yes, I see,” Brainard replied and again tried to approach the inner office. The stenographer confronted him alertly and folding her arms demanded: “What’s your game, anyway, young man? If you’re one of those lawyers—” “No, I’m no lawyer,” Brainard said laughing. “Guess again!” “Haven’t the time. It’s Saturday afternoon, and this office is supposed to be closed at one o’clock.” “So it is Saturday—I’d almost forgotten the fact.” The stenographer eyed him very sourly and observed coldly: “Where do you keep yourself that you don’t know the day of the week? Go home, young man, and think it over.” Brainard saw that in this national game of “josh” he could make no progress against such an adept and came bluntly to the point: “Are you in charge of Mr. Krutzmacht’s office?” “What’s that to you?” “Because I’ve been sent here by Mr. Krutzmacht to—” “Sent here by Mr. Krutzmacht—the one you were asking for just now? . . . Try something else, sonny.” Brainard felt foolish and completely baffled. He wanted to strangle the woman and throw her out of the window. But aside from the fact that she appeared to be vigorous and of a fighting disposition he realized that the less disturbance he made the greater chance he would have of carrying through his mission successfully. It is not clear what the outcome between the two would have been, if at that moment there had not appeared from the inner office an elderly man whose mild face had a worried look. Brainard noted the man’s near-sighted, timid air and regained his calm. “Here’s a young feller, Mr. Peters, who says he’s looking for Mr. Krutzmacht,” the girl said. “Mr. Krutzmacht is not in the city,” the man said nervously. “Yes, I know that!” Brainard replied easily. “You see I was sent here by Mr. Krutzmacht himself.” “You come from Krutzmacht!” the man gasped in excitement, while the woman’s face expressed incredulity. “Where is he? We’ve been telegraphing all over the country the last week trying to locate him. Mr. Snell has just gone east—left this office only an hour ago—to see if he can find him.”