He climbed stairs, entered the outer room, and greeted J. Hall’s clerk, the dusty Albert. Albert ushered him through into the sanctum, where J. Hall was having his ham sandwich and his whiskey and soda. A coal fire burned in the grate. J. Hall was in the habit of saying that he was going to retire; he practically had retired, but still came to his office every day and spent eight hours there. Albert kept him company, sent out the few bills and circulars, and brought his employer mid-morning coffee, lunch and tea.
Gamadge said: “I won’t sit down, Hall; just came in to ask a favor of you.”
Hall, chewing, raised his eyebrows.
“I wanted you to let Albert make an out-of-town telephone call for me.”
Hall swallowed, took a drink of whiskey, and asked: “Why?”
“I have to communicate with a cli
