He stopped short. There was something in the face of Croly Addicks that told him to stop. The big new jaw was pointing straight at him as if it were a pistol.
"You said, just now," said Croly, and his voice was hoarse, "that I wasn't the same type of man as the Croly Addicks who worked here before. I'm not. I'm no longer the sort of man it's safe to ride. Please don't call me Mister unless you mean it."
Cowdin's eyes strayed from the snapping eyes of Croly Addicks to the taut jaw; he shrugged his shoulders.
"Report to Baldwin," was all he said.
As Croly turned away, his back hid from Cowdin the smile that had come to his new face.
The reincarnated Croly had been back at his old job for ten days, or, more accurately, ten days and nights, for it had taken that long to straighten out the snarl in which Baldwin, not quite so sure of himself now, had been immersed to the eyebrows. Baldwin was watching, a species of awe in his eye, while Croly swiftly and expertly checked off a complicated price list. Croly looked up.
"Baldwin," he said, laying down the work, "I'm going to make a suggestion to you. It's for your own good."
"Shoot!" said the assistant purchasing agent warily.
"You're not cut out for this game," said Croly Addicks.
"Wha-a-at?" sputtered Baldwin.