"I think I will have you formulate a new bid along the lines you have laid down."
"Very well."
"You understand, our time is up. Can you have it ready by Saturday, three days from now?"
Mitchell laughed. "It's a ten days' job for two men."
"I know, but we can't wait."
"Then give me until Tuesday; I'm used to a twenty-four-hour shift now. Meanwhile I'd like to leave these figures here for your chief draftsman to examine. Of course they are not to be considered binding."
"Isn't that a bit—er—foolish?" inquired Peebleby? "Aren't you leaving a weapon behind you?"
"Yes, but not the sort of a weapon you suspect," thought Mitchell. "This is a boomerang." Aloud, he answered, lightly: "Oh, that's all right. I know I'm among friends."
When his request was granted he made a mental note, "Step number two!"
Again he filled a cab with drawings, again he went back to the Metropole and to maddening columns of new figures—back to the monotony of tasteless meals served at his elbow.