Then he turned over his desk to an apprentice dispatcher, left orders to be called if anything broke down, and went out to lunch.
It was 2:30 P.M. when news of the restraining order arrived in the quiet, streamlined offices of the Moulton Trust. Two minutes later, the offices were still streamlined, but not quiet.
The three major stockholders of the great organization, N. Rovance, F. K. Esrov, and Cecil Neinfort-Whritings, formed a tiny huddle at one end of the long conference table. Esrov was waving a copy of the order.
"Gentlemen, we can consider this nothing but an outrage!"
"Blackmail, really!" It was Neinfort-Whritings's lisping voice.
"Whatever it is, this sort of nonsense must be stopped at the beginning. It might set a precedent."
"May I suggest," Rovance broke in, "that, as the matter of precedent is sure to arise, we take no action without first consulting Lesquallan Ltd."
"An excellent idea," Esrov nodded. He switched on the intercom to his first secretary. "Connect me with Lesquallan Ltd. I want to speak with Novell Lesquallan. Inform him that it is urgent."