And now there was something on with Fells. The blonde girl liked Fells. He was nice. You liked him instinctively. She was rather curious about him. And something was on. Whenever they came up to the office and actually saw Quayle—as Fells had done—then it was serious business.
She'd noticed something else too. Very often when people came up and saw Quayle they didn't come any more, and they didn't come through on the telephone. Probably, she thought, Quayle sent them off somewhere. She hoped they came back all right. She wondered where Fells was going. She knew that Quayle had lots of people in France. Perhaps he was going to send Fells there.
The telephone jangled suddenly. The blonde girl jumped. She took off the receiver. It was Greeley.
He said: "Hello. Mr. Quayle there?"
She said:
