“You have my proposition. The quicker you get it to your board of directors, the quicker you can give me an answer.”
I walked over and held the door open.
He looked at me curiously for a minute, then shot out his hand. “Mr. Fischler,” he said, “permit me to congratulate you on having made one of the most momentous decisions of your entire business career — and also upon having put across the shrewdest, most far-sighted financial deal of any prospect upon whom I have called. I’ll give you a ring this afternoon.”
I stood in the door and watched him cross the outer office and leave through the entrance door.
Elsie Brand looked up. “Gosh, what a line,” she said.
“Could you hear it?”
“Not the words, but you could hear his voice pouring out through the cracks around the office door.”
I said, “Get me Henry C. Ashbury on the line. You’ll find him listed in the telephone book. Don’t try his residence. Get his office.”
I went back and sat down at the desk. Ashbury came on the phone in about thirty seconds, and I said, “Hello, Ashbury. You know who this is talking?”
“No.” His voice was close-clipped and decisive as though he didn’t like riddles over the telephone, and was ready to hang up.