Before the fisherman could reply there came an interruption. The door opened quickly and a young man strode into the room.
"Mr. Gregory? Is he in?"
Blair looked up quickly at the sound of the voice and ran his eyes over the clean-cut figure in the serge uniform. The impression, hastily formed, of having
met the man before, was strengthened by the roving black eyes which were expectantly traveling about the room.
"This is the Legonia Fish Cannery, isn't it?"
Blair nodded. "Yes," he said. "But Mr. Gregory is not here at present."
"When will he be in?"
The words came eagerly with the brusk assurance of an immediate answer. The crisp insistence had a decidedly familiar sound. Blair regarded the clean-cut face of the young officer intently as he answered:
"I don't know. Will you call again or leave your name?"
"I am Mr. Gregory's son."