Suddenly his whole manner and expression changed completely. His resigned annoyance was transformed into patent excitement. He fingered the card nervously for a moment. Then he looked up at Roger, his brows knitted. "Would you mind excusing me for just a moment, Mr. Wynrod? There's a gentleman here to see me ... very important...." Roger resisted an impulse to ask who the gentleman might be who had created such manifest consternation, and turned to leave. But as he put his hand to the door, it opened, and Good entered. "Hello," said the tall man, "making trouble around here already? What's the...?" Before he could finish, Jenkins had him by the arm and was drawing him toward the window, whispering excitedly. Roger was as effectually excluded from the conversation as if he had not existed. As he watched the animated gestures of the Business Manager the strange thought struck him that he himself was the subject of the conference. His suspicions were confirmed when Good whistled softly, and, turning suddenly, intimated, in a voice more authoritative than apologetic, that his prompt withdrawal would be appreciated. Roger, deeply offended, was about to comply, when the door opened again, and a man stood on the threshold, twirling his mustache. Jenkins rushed forward to greet him. "Oh, Mr. Faxon," he cried, "how are you? Glad to see you. Sit down, won't you? I ..." Faxon ignored the proffered chair. "Hello, Roger," he said abruptly, "the boy said you were here. Thought I'd butt in." "Hello, Joe," said Roger, striving to understand the tense atmosphere which seemed to pervade the room. "I'm just bound for my office. Come on up." He noticed with surprise that Jenkins frowned and shook his head savagely at the invitation. "Come on, Joe," he repeated, resentful at Jenkins' behaviour. But as he put his hand on the doorknob, Good rushed into the breach. "One moment, if you please, Mr. Faxon," he said smoothly. "Mr. Wynrod is hardly familiar enough yet with things here to be of use to you in--er--matters of business." Faxon wheeled sharply and stared as if he had not before realised the tall man's presence. "You'll doubtless leave that to me to discover, won't you?" he inquired with studied insolence. Abruptly he turned again to Roger. "Now then, may I see you--alone?" Roger's eyes wandered from one to the other helplessly. But before he could speak, Good came to the fore again. His jaw was set firmly and his eyes were cold. "See here, Mr. Faxon," he said, with characteristic disdain of subtlety, "let's not mince matters. Jenkins and I know perfectly well what you're here for. Wynrod doesn't. I'd suggest that we talk things over together."