So that explained it, and Derrence was ready to back out as gracefully as possible. But then he noticed how meek Tzadi seemed, and decided to stay a few moments. He came forward with hand out-stretched. "Welcome aboard, Ed. I'm Derrence Cale. Der to you." They shook hands. "New writer, eh?" Tzadi nodded and smiled. Derrence put his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels. "Personnel never bothered to inform me that you were coming. I'll have to check Miss McCarty. She may have heard and forgotten to mention it." "Is she your secretary?" Derrence said, "Not exactly," and regretted having given into his impulse to act important. "Well, work's awaitin', as they say in the Ozarks." He chuckled. "Though for future reference, Ed, you needn't come in until nine-fifteen. The hours at Chester Chemical...." "Yes, I know, but I am an early riser. I will be here each morning at eight-thirty, perhaps earlier." Derrence decided he didn't like Tzadi. There was something vaguely foreign in the way the man spoke. Not that he had an accent. It was more a matter of off-beat timing. And that name--Central European in origin. Personnel was getting sloppy. "I'm afraid that's not feasible, Ed. At eight, the cleaning people leave, locking the hall doors. Miss McCarty and I have keys, but we couldn't allow them out of our possessions. (He'd waited three years before borrowing Miss McCarty's and having a copy made.) "I too have a key." The fat man beamed. "That solves our little problem, doesn't it?" "How'd you get...." He stopped short. _Time to leave. Should never have come in here in the first place. This man isn't an ordinary writer!_ "Is there anything wrong, Der?" Derrence smiled. "Wrong? Of course not. Just thought of an urgent bit of business. Again, _welcome_ aboard, Ed." "And again, thank you, Der." Tzadi smiled, somewhat apologetically. "And again, that question." "What question?" "Is Miss McCarty your secretary?" "I answered it," Derrence said, and found it hard to smile. "I said she _wasn't_." "No, Der," Tzadi said, right hand rising, index finger lifting scholastically. "You said, and I quote, 'Not exactly.' That indicated semi-secretarial status." * * * * * Derrence was immediately frightened. He fought it by telling himself he was jumping to conclusions. There was no reason in the world to assume that the man was a company spy, especially since Chester Chemical never had been known to employ such methods. He laughed. It was a rich, hearty, booming, self-confident laugh, developed by means of long practice with a tape recorder. Hearing it, he was able to form an answer. "Actually, Ed, Miss McCarty is the floor manager. She assigns new offices ... as she did this one to you, right?" "No. Mr. Chester said to choose any empty office that pleased me." _Mr. Chester! The Founder himself!_ Derrence opened the door and waved his arm and chuckled and nodded and exuded good will, and said, "See you, Ed."