The Floater went off to regions where I couldn’t follow him, and Bridget spoke in non-committal but not unkindly tone. "Better take off that topcoat and hang it in Clancy’s locker. Clancy was the gabby chap you heard at Lizzie’s. That’s Lizzie Bryne. Sure I moind her when her mother kep’ a little notion store down by Grime Street, and now the airs she gives herself! Ah, well, there’s no law ag’in’ it! Come awn now. We’ll get these other bits in, because Daly, that’s the driver, ’ll have to be after goin’ back to the station for the Bokharas." "Will that be more to unload?" I asked, eagerly. "Sure it ’ll be more to unload. Dee ye think they’ll walk off the truck by theirselves?" Vaguely afraid of something hostile or supercilious on Bridget’s part, I was pleasantly surprised to find him not merely good-natured, but helpful and patient, showing me the small tricks of unloading long burlap cylinders from a motor lorry, which proved to be as much an art in its simple way as anything else, and enlivening the work by anecdote. All that he knew of Creed & Creed I learned in the course of that half-hour, though it turned out to be little more than I knew myself, except as it concerned the minor personnel. Of the heads of the firm and the managers he could tell me only as much as the peasants in the vale of Olympus could have recounted of the gods on the mountain-top. To Bridget they were celestial, shadowy beings, seen as they passed in and out of the office, or stopped to look at some new consignment from the Far East; but he barely knew their names. The highest flight of his information was up to the Floater; beyond him he seemed to consider it useless to ascend. Of the gods on the summit, the Floater was the high priest, and in that capacity he, alone, was of moment to those on the lower plane. He administered the favors and meted out the punishments. "He’s It," was Bridget’s laconic phrase, and in the sentence, as far as he was concerned, or I was concerned, or any salesman or porter was concerned, Creed & Creed’s was summed up. Of the Floater’s anomalous position in the establishment, the explanation commonly accepted by the porters, the "luggers" they called themselves, was that he was in possession of dark secrets, which it would have been perilous to tempt him to divulge, concerning the firm’s prosperity. A mysterious blood-relationship with "Old Man Creed," who had founded the house some sixty years before, was also a current speculation. Certain it was that his connection with the business antedated that of any one among either partners or employees, a fact that gave him an authority which no one disputed and all subordinates feared.