“Too late to think about that now,” he told himself. “Have to go to Crane and tell my story.”
Robert Crane, Jr., was District Manager of the Air Transportation Company. He was young, a college graduate, and son of a rich man. Curlie had seen little of him but had always feared him. Old men of long experience, whatever their importance in the world of affairs, never frightened him. But of a young man in a high position he simply did not know what to expect, that was all.
Thus it was with many misgivings that he sought out the young manager’s office.
Robert Crane sprang to his feet the instant the boy entered the door.
“Where have you been?” he demanded.
“I—”
“Delivering the mail in person, I am told. Since when has our company held that contract?”
“In an emergency,” Curlie was getting control of himself, “when there is great need one does what seems best.”
“Sit down!” The manager indicated a chair. Curlie sat down. “Now tell me about it, but be brief. There’s a man from the Government Secret Service waiting in the back office.”
Curlie shuddered, cleared his throat twice, spoke a few words, choked up, took a fresh start. Then securing a firm grip on himself he proceeded to tell his story.