“He loved to stage a good scene and get an audience sitting on the edge of their chairs, and here was this one, his own idea, taking place a good mile from his plant rooms and his oversized chair. But, stepping onto the sidewalk in front of Boyden McNair Incorporated, I merely shrugged my shoulders and thought to myself, Well-a-day, you fat son-of-a-gun, you can’t be a homebody and see the world too. I walked across to the entrance, where the uniformed McNair doorman was standing alongside a chu...nky guy with a round red face and a hat too small for him pushed back on his forehead. As I reached for the door this latter moved to block me. He put an arm out. “Excuse me, sir. Are you here by request? Your name, please?” He brought into view a piece of paper with a typewritten list on it. I gazed down my nose at him. “Look here, my man. It was I who made the requests.” He squinted at me. “Yeah? Sure. The inspector says, nothing for you boys here. Beat it.” Naturally I would have been sore anyhow at being taken for a reporter, but what made it worse was that I had taken the trouble to put on my suit of quiet brown with a faint tan stripe, a light tan shirt, a green challis four-in-hand and my dark green soft-brim hat.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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