The message was duly transferred to the ’phone. It found the editor imparting some instructions to his new office boy and loyal personal heeler, Burton Higman. At the call which informed him that the Fenchester P.-U. Corporation office was on the ’phone, Jeremy’s mind reverted to the interview of some months before when Mr. Montrose Clark had issued his god-like directions to the fuming but helpless “rippawtah” from The Record, and an unholy light shone in his eye.
“What is it?” he asked.
“This is Mr. Garson, Mr. Montrose Clark’s private secretary.”
“Go ahead.”
“Mr. Clark wishes to see you.”
“What about?”
“Is that necessary?” queried the voice, in a tone of startled rebuke.
“It’s usual.”
“He will doubtless explain, himself,” said the voice, after a pause.
“All right,” said Jeremy.