She nodded uncertainly.

Paul closed his door, locked it silently, and got a bottle from under papers in a bottom drawer. He blacked out for an instant under the gloriously hot impact of a gulp of whisky. He hid the bottle again, his eyes watering.

"Doctor Proteus, your wife is on the phone," said Katharine on the intercom.

"Proteus speaking." He started to sit, and was distressed to find a small wicker basket in his chair, containing a dead black cat.

"This is me, darling, Anita."

"Hello, hello, hello." He set the basket on the floor gently, and sank into his chair. "How are you, sweetheart?" he said absently. His mind was still on the cat.

"All set to have a good time tonight?" It was a theatrical contralto, knowing and passionate: Ilium's Lady of the Manor speaking.

"Been jumpy all day about the talk."

"Then you'll do it brilliantly, darling. You'll get to Pittsburgh yet. I haven't the slightest doubt about that, Paul, not the slightest. Just wait until Kroner and Baer hear you tonight."

"Kroner and Baer accepted, did they?" These two were manager and chief engineer, respectively, of the entire Eastern Division, of which the Ilium Works was one small part. It was Kroner and Baer who would decide who was to get the most important job in their division, a job left vacant two weeks ago by death - the managership of the Pittsburgh Works. "How gay can a party get?"

"Well, if you don't like that, I have some news you will like. There's going to be another very special guest."

"Hi ho."

"And you have to go to Homestead for some Irish whisky for him. The club hasn't got any."

"Finnerty! Ed Finnerty!"

"Yes, Finnerty. He called this afternoon and was very specific about your getting some Irish for him. He's on his way from Washington to Chicago, and he's going to stop off here."