"Good luck!" said he.
Orde mounted a wide, dark flight of stairs that led from the street
to a darker hall. The smell of stale cigars and cocoa matting was
in the air. Down the dim length of this hall he made his way to a
door, which without ceremony he pushed open.
He found himself in a railed-off space, separated from the main part
of the room by a high walnut grill.
"Mr. Heinzman in?" he asked of a clerk.
"I think so," replied the clerk, to whom evidently Orde was known.
Orde spent the rest of the morning with Heinzman, a very rotund,
cautious person of German extraction and accent. Heinzman occupied
the time in asking questions of all sorts about the new enterprise.
At twelve he had not in any way committed himself nor expressed an
opinion. He, however, instructed Orde to return the afternoon of
the following day.
"I vill see Proctor," said he.
Orde, rather exhausted, returned to find Newmark still sitting in
the rocking-chair with his unlighted cigar. The two had lunch
together, after which Orde, somewhat refreshed, started out. He
succeeded in getting two more promises of contracts and two more
deferred interviews.
"That's going a little faster," he told Newmark cheerfully.
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