"That's right," said Birrel. Then anger swept away his astonishment. "Who are you and how the hell did you get in here?"
"We'll discuss that later," said the gray man. "Right now, I want you to come with me. Official business."
"What kind of official business?"
"We'll discuss that later too."
Birrel started forward, his temper dangerously high. Then he stopped. The gray man's hand was in his coat pocket, and it was gripping something in that pocket. He said,
"Please don't be difficult, Mr. Birrel."
Birrel said, "If you're an official of some sort, let's see your credentials."
"I'm afraid," said the other, "I don't have any."
"I thought so." Birrel began to breathe hard. "Listen, you've made a mistake. I'm not a rich man, or a rival gangster, or anybody you want. I'm an electrical engineer, a bachelor, and I'm stone broke."
"We know that," murmured the gray man. "Now will you come along?"