He approached the nearest desk. A young man was checking up rows of figures on a stack of yellow sheets. Tommy waited a full minute. The young man, obviously aware of Tommy's presence, and even annoyed by it, did not look up. Tommy could not wait. He said, aggressively, “I want Thompson!” The clerk looked up. “Who d'ye want?” “Thompson.” “What Thompson?” Tommy wanted to fight, but he did not know which weapons to use in this particular skirmish. He resorted to the oldest. He smiled and spoke, quizzically, “Whom does a man mean when he says Thompson in this office?” “Do you mean Mr. Thompson?” asked the clerk, rebukingly. “I may.” Tommy again smiled tantalizingly. He won. Having been made angry, the clerk became serious. He said, freezingly, “Mr. Thompson, the president?” “Exactly!” interjected Tommy, kindly. “Well,” said the clerk, both rebukingly and self-defensively, “people usually ask for Mr. Thompson.” “He himself evidently doesn't. He told me to ask for Thompson.” The clerk rose. “Appointment?” he asked. “Yep,” said Tommy. “What name?” Tommy pulled out the telegram, folded it, and giving it to the reluctant clerk, said, paternally, “He'll know!” The clerk went into an inner office. Presently he returned. “This way,” he said. Tommy followed. His mind was asking itself a thousand questions and not answering a single one. He walked into a large room. It was characteristic of him that he took in the room with a quick glance, feeling it was wise to size up the ground before tackling the enemy, who, after all, might not prove to be an enemy. There were big windows on three sides. One looked into a shop, another into the street, and the third into the factory yard. A man sat at a square, flat desk. There were no papers on it, only a pen-tray with two fountain-pens and a dozen neatly sharpened lead-pencils. Also a row of push-buttons, at least ten of them, all numbered. The walls were bare save for a big calendar and an electric clock. The floor was of polished hardwood. The desk stood on a large and beautiful Oriental rug. There were but two chairs; on one of them Mr. Thompson sat. The other stood beside the desk. Through an open door Tommy, with a quick glance, looked into an adjoining room and saw a long, polished mahogany table with a dozen mahogany arm-chairs about it.