His conference with the chief of his department the next morning was satisfactory in all respects. He appeared to grasp quickly the details of the various insurance policies, and spoke confidently of what he intended to do with the list of prominent citizens he was instructed to call upon.
"Mr. Vandermorgan. Sure! I'll touch him for a one hundred thousand dollar policy right away. If I clean him up before lunch, I guess that would be doing something."
"I guess it would," agreed the chief, who knew how for many months they had fished unsuccessfully for Mr. Vandermorgan.
So Tom gathered up his papers and strode briskly out of the office. He took the elevator with the air of a man who talked in nothing less than six figures. Then he went out and walked around the block. When he came back to the majestic portals of the Long Life Building he paused to reflect. An idea seemed to occur to him. That it was a corking idea, the pleased expression on his face indicated. He again took the elevator, and was shot up to the floor on which his brother-in-law's office was located.
"Hello, Bert!" he greeted, looking in at the door.
"Hello, Tom! How's business? How are you getting along?"
"Fine! Just going out to tackle Vandermorgan."
"Good! Hope you'll land him."
"Yes," Tom proceeded, drawing a chair up to his brother-in-law's desk, and spreading out his papers. "But I thought I'd have a talk with you first."
"Well, go ahead. Glad to help out in any way possible."