By
the time he had reached Heinzman's office, the last of his
irritation had vanished. Only he realised clearly now that it would
hardly do to ask Newmark for a renewal of the personal note on which
depended his retention of his Boom Company stock unless he could
renew the Heinzman note also. This is probably what Newmark
intended.
"Mr. Heinzman?" he asked briefly of the first clerk.
"Mr. Heinzman is at home ill," replied the bookkeeper.
"Already?" said Orde. He drummed on the black walnut rail
thoughtfully. The notes came due in ten days. "How bad is he?"
The clerk looked up curiously. "Can't say. Probably won't be back
for a long time. It's smallpox, you know."
"True," said Orde. "Well, who's in charge?"
"Mr. Lambert. You'll find him in the private office."
Orde passed through the grill into the inner room.
"Hullo, Lambert," he addressed the individual seated at Heinzman's
desk. "So you're the boss, eh?"
Lambert turned, showing a perfectly round face, ornamented by a dot
of a nose, two dots of eyes set rather close together, and a pursed
up mouth. His skin was very brown and shiny, and was so filled by
the flesh beneath as to take the appearance of having been inflated.
Pages:
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460