The visitor bowed and pushed the glasses forward. "With the compliments of the Corporation," he said.
The city editor sprang to his feet. Sagely cynical, he suspected a ruse.
"It's a plant!" he exclaimed. "Don't touch it! It's a trick on the part of the Department of Justice, trying to get us into trouble."
Bleak gazed angrily at the stranger. If this was indeed a federal stratagem, what an intolerably cruel one! In front of him the glasses sparkled alluringly: a delicate mist gathered on their ice-chilled curves: a pungent sweetness wavered in his nostrils.
"See here!" he blurted with shrill excitement. "Are you a damned government agent? If so, take your poison and get out."
The tall stranger in his impressive uniform stood erect and unabashed. With affectionate care he gave the tumblers a final musical stir.
"O ye of little faith!" he said calmly. The sadness of the misunderstood idealist grieved his features. "Have you forgotten the miracle of Cana?" From his pocket he took a card and laid it on the desk.
Bleak seized it. It said:
THE CORPORATION FOR THE PERPETUATION OF HAPPINESS
1316 Caraway Street
Virgil Quimbleton, Associate Director
He stared at the pasteboard, stupefied, and handed it to the city editor.