“Yes. I told him that you were Donald’s partner. I think if I tell him you’ll be able to see him right away, he’ll talk with you. But he’s disappointed about not finding Donald.”
“What’s he look like?” Bertha asked.
“Around thirty-five, tall, high cheek-bones, hair sort of reddish. He has nice eyes, only they look worried. He’s a sales engineer.”
“Money?”
“I’d say — some. He makes that sort of an impression.”
“Much?”
“Medium. He’s wearing a very fine overcoat.”
“All right,” Bertha said. “Get him in. I’ll find out what he wants. If he’s a friend of Donald Lam, he’s probably a wild-eyed gambler. He may be a— What are you standing there staring at me for?”
“I was waiting for you to finish.”
“The hell with that polite stuff. When a potential client who looks as if he had money is waiting in the office, don’t let politeness interfere with efficiency. Get him in here.”