Black Tom laid a hand on his knee. "Boy, you'll have to excuse a lot of manner when you're one of us. Our material's men and we get to handle them sometimes as if they were—pig iron." He whistled and Katya popped above the fence. "Bring me the Anderson case."
When Katya brought it he said briefly, "Barton's going to work with us."
Roger noticed that he did not say Comrade Barton and wondered whether Black Tom did not quite trust him yet. But he found later that Black Tom tagged no man with artificial distinction, except in addressing a meeting whose sympathy he was not quite sure of. In a few moments he had explained the case to Roger, and turned him back to Katya.
"You can work here if you like. It's noisy at times, but we can fix you up with a kind of office down in the corner. Or you can work elsewhere."
"Here. I don't mind noise."
"Tell Jim to fix up the office Philips used to have," he ordered Katya, took his hat, and was gone.
"Let's go and have lunch," Katya suggested. "Tom's probably forgotten a lot of details you ought to know."
But Anne was expecting him and anxious to hear. "Suppose you come home and have lunch with us?"
Roger thought that Katya smiled, but was not quite sure. One never was sure whether Katya smiled unless her eyes actually twinkled, her face was so swarthy and still.
On the way home Roger listened with interest to Katya's history of the Anderson case, but, as they came to the bottom of the long flight, he wished he could run ahead and prepare Anne. He led and Katya followed, still talking. At the door they met Anne. For a moment she looked disturbed and then greeted Katya with such ease that Roger felt all responsibility for the lunch drop from him. While she skilfully reset the table and twisted the menu to include three instead of two, Katya talked on.