The secretary hesitated for a moment, and then picked up the bedside telephone and dialled the number dubiously.
Flager took the instrument as soon as his manager answered.
"Nyson?" he said. "Get in touch with all our branch depots immediately. From now on, all our drivers will be on a five-hour day, and they get a twenty per cent rise as from the date we took them on. Engage as many more men as you need to make up the schedules."
He heard Nyson's incredulous gasp over the line.
"I beg your pardon, Sir Melvin — did you say—"
"Yes, I did!" snarled Flager. "You heard me all right. And after that, you can find out if that cyclist Johnson killed left any dependents. I want to do something for them…"
His voice faded away, and the microphone slipped through his fingers. His secretary looked at him quickly, and saw that his eyes were closed and the hemispherical mound of his abdomen was rising and falling rhythmically.
Sir Melvin Flager was asleep again.