age as Mr. Wynrod. He had been harassed enough by the change in
ownership, without that.

But fate has a queer way of settling knotty problems very suddenly and
very surprisingly. As Jenkins laughed and cursed behind the laugh, a boy
put a card on his desk.

"Maybe Good ... he might have something ..." he said to Roger
abstractedly, as he picked up the card. "Ask Mr. Good to step down
here," he called after the retreating boy. "Awful rush these days," he
murmured.

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