The door was promptly opened by a man with shaggy, unkempt hair, whose eyes were quick but friendly. He stepped back and nodded as he gestured for the girl to enter.
“So you’re the young lady,” the man acknowledged. “Miss -”
“Arlene Forster.”
“I’m glad to meet you, Miss Forster.” The shaggy head bowed again. “I am Niles Ronjan. Now let me see: you are staying at the Plaza Central.”
“That’s right.”
“A very nice place. Very well, the charts will be sent there. You are familiar with coastal charts, of course.”
“I am.”
“Then that’s all. Your job will be to check them when you receive them.”
“At what salary?”
“Why, eighty dollars a week,” responded Ronjan, as though Arlene should know, “with hotel expenses in addition.”