“Because I might as well get the row over with,” I said. “You’re not going to give me the order, and my seeing your production manager won’t alter that.”

I beckoned the waiter. “The bill, please.”

“You’re jumping to conclusions,” Tiffield said. “You’ve not been in business very long, have you, Joe?” It was the first time he’d used my Christian name.

“Ten years,” I said.

“I’ve been in business fifty years. Man and boy, as they say. I started at the same time as your father-in-law. I was in business in the same part of the world.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Not many people do. I wasn’t very successful at first. In fact, I came a cropper. I knew it all. Yes, a real purler. I was young and I thought I knew it all. We were after the same young woman. I expect you know who she was.”

I kept my face expressionless. I didn’t want to discourage his confidences; but if he told me too much he might be sorry the next day.

“It’s the old story,” I said.

“Yes, the old story.” He folded his napkin and rose abruptly. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

My cigar was lying unlit by my brandy glass; I handed it to him. “They’re wasted on me,” I said.

He smiled and put it in his cigar-case.

“You understand me, Joe.”

He patted me on the shoulder.

“Your father-in-law must think a lot about you,” he said. “He’ll think even more of you after tomorrow. There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“There’s quite a lot,” I said. “But it doesn’t matter now.”

“Well, we’ll go into all that tomorrow, when we look at the draft contract. A most forbidding document, I may add.” He held out his hand. “Thank you again for a really admirable dinner. And now I’ll go home to bed and a nice mug of Ovaltine and an hour with Sherlock Holmes. . . . The pleasures of an old man . . .”

I hardly heard him. “What draft contract, sir?”

He put his hand to his mouth; the gesture was almost roguish. “I mustn’t tell you,” he said. “It’s Mr. Mottram’s decision. But it’ll be the contract that you’re really interested in, take my word for it.”

I looked at him dumbly.

After I’d put him in a taxi I went up to my room. I kicked off my shoes and loosened my collar and lay on the bed; it was the first moment that I’d had the chance to relax. The pain in my chest began to diminish; I was in, I was home and dry. I’d got the order. He’d played cat-and-mouse with me for a bit, because that was his nature; but I’d succeeded where other men had failed.

I ran my hand over my chin; it was six o’clock in the morning when I’d shaved last. A shower, a shave, a clean shirt, and a large Scotch on the rocks; and Jean was having a party. I hadn’t ex­pected to go to that party when she’d told me about it on Saturday; but neither had I expected to all but clinch the deal with Tiffield. I threw off my clothes and went into the bathroom; as the cold shower jerked my body back into well-being it suddenly occurred to me that there was nothing more I could reasonably wish for.