The phone rang. Sachs picked it up, meanwhile snapping his fingers impatiently at Robin's bust. "Yes? Not now. I'm busy." He flipped the phone and caught it neatly on the cradle. "Took three lessons from W. C. Fields," he smiled, then brayed: "'Master Copperfield, under the impression that your peregrinations in this metropolis have not as yet been extensive, and that you might have some difficulty in penetrating the arcana of the Modern Babylon....' Come on, Robin. Come on. Get 'em out."
There was a knock on the door.
"Go away," Sachs called.
The knocking was repeated.
"'Here's a knocking indeed!'" Sachs intoned in Shakespearean diapason. He snatched up the desk lamp and began to hobble. "Lantern business. 'If a man were porter of hell-gate, he should have old turning the key. Knock, knock, knock! Who's there i'th' name of Belzebub?'"
"Jake Lennox. I've got to see you. Won't take a minute."
"Wait," Sachs told Robin. He put down the lamp and called: "Come in. I'm starting the clock."
Lennox entered the brain room and was surprised to see Robin. He greeted her and Sachs, then said: "This won't take long, but I'm afraid it'll have to be in private. Do you mind, Robin?"
"No. It's a pleasure," Robin said through her teeth. She stalked out of the office and slammed the door.
"Something?" Lennox asked Sachs.