There were three desks here. He didn't recognize two of the girls who looked up at his entry. One of them began to say something, but then Betty, whose desk dominated the entry to the inner sanctum, grinned a welcome at him and said, "Hank! How was Peru? We've been expecting you."
"Full of Incas," he grinned back. "Incas, Russkies and Chinks. A poor capitalist conquistador doesn't have a chance. Is the boss inside?"
"He's waiting for you, Hank. See you later."
Hank said, "Um-m-m," and when the door clicked in response to the button Betty touched, pushed his way into the inner office.
Morton Twombly, chief of the department, came to his feet, shook hands abruptly and motioned the other to a chair.
"How're things in Peru, Henry?" His voice didn't express too much real interest.
Hank said, "We were on the phone just a week ago, Mr. Twombly. It's about the same. No, the devil it is. The Chinese have just run in their new People's Car. They look something like our jeep station-wagons did fifteen years ago."
Twombly stirred in irritation. "I've heard about them."
Hank took his handkerchief from his breast pocket and polished his rimless glasses. He said evenly, "They sell for just under two hundred dollars."
"Two hundred dollars?" Twombly twisted his face. "They can't transport them from China for that."