‘Mr Newman.’

‘Miss Keller speaking.’

‘Yes, Miss Keller.’

‘Mr Gargan would like to see you in his office. Right away, if you can. He’s got an early appointment.’

‘I’ll be right in.’

He hung up the phone. It was impossible to deny that he was frightened. He got up and walked the length of the floor to a door painted cream. Through this he entered Miss Keller’s office. She nodded him past her with a bright smile, and he came to another cream door. This he opened and walked into Mr Gargan’s office. Mr Gargan was sitting behind his long desk with his back to a wide window which looked out upon the river. Mr Gargan had a fall head of black hair, parted in the center, and it shone under the morning light from the window. The only signs of Mr Gargan’s importance were the two photographs on his desk; no one else was permitted to have any personal objects on his desk. One picture was of Mr Gargan’s small motorboat, which he kept at Oyster Bay, Long Island, and the other was of his two schnauzer dogs. In the background behind the dogs was his six-room house where he lived with his wife near Elizabeth, New Jersey. When Mr Newman entered Mr Gargan was doing nothing but looking at the river. He turned to Mr Newman.

‘Morning,’ he said, and nothing more.

‘How are you this morning, Mr Gargan?’

‘Pretty good. Have a chair.’

Mr Newman sat in a leather chair beside Mr Gargan’s desk. He did not like to sink down so deep. It always distressed him to lose height. Mr Gargan picked up a newspaper which he seemed to have been reading and tossed it over to Mr Newman’s side of the desk.

‘How do you like that news?’

Mr Newman, anxious to give an intelligent reply, instantly bent toward the paper. ‘I hadn’t noticed the paper this morning. What …?’

‘You can’t read it, can you?’

Mr Newman stopped moving. He looked at Mr Gargan’s eyes which were piercing now and deeply angered.

‘Why in the world don’t you get yourself a pair of glasses? Good God, man!’ Mr Gargan exclaimed, exasperated.

Mr Newman heard nothing but understood everything. Sweat was pouring from his body.

‘Can you see me now, for God’s sake?’

Anger stung Mr Newman. ‘I’m not that bad, I’m only …’

‘But you are that bad. You are. I doubt that you can see me clearly.’ Mr Gargan leaned forward challengingly.

‘I do, I see you. I’m only a little …’

‘Did you give this Miss Kapp a personal interview? The one you hired last Friday?’

They were speaking faster.

‘I always give everybody a personal interview. I never took anybody on without one.’

‘Then you can’t be seeing me clearly now.’ Mr Gargan leaned back, convinced.

Mr Newman strained to see him. He did look a little blurred around the mouth, but the light in here was shining into his eyes …