The secretary said, "Oh, yes. I have you on the list." She checked them off, studied them vaguely, asked, "What was it you wanted to see Mr. Blair about?"
Ted Baker held out the small steel box he was carrying. "About this."
"Ah—what is it?"
"It's a box."
"I can see that," the redhead snapped. "What is it for? What does it do?"
"It's for construction work. It makes holes."
The girl sighed. It was late in the day and she didn't care much, really. She snapped an intercom button. An inquiring voice rasped at her. She said, "A Mr. Baker and a Mr. Stephens to see you."
Evidently it was all right because she snapped off the button and pointed to a door. "In there."
They went in the door and faced a desk large enough to play tennis on. The man behind the desk gave them a cordial snarl. "Well, what have you got on your mind? And don't take all day to tell me."
Ted extended the box. "This. We'd like to sell it to you."