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“You’ll see him tomorrow,” said Carmody.

“You swear he’s done everything you say he’s done?” said Miss Daily.

“I made that up about the Queen Elizabeth,” said Sterling.

“The rest is true?”

“Oh, Bomar’s a wild one, Miss Daily,” said Carmody.

Unaccountably, Miss Daily seemed vastly relieved. She sank down in her chair, and managed to smile. “It is true,” she said faintly. “Thank the Lord. If it had all been made up, oh, I—” She shook her head, and left the sentence unfinished.

“If it had all been made up, you what?” said Carmody.

“Never mind, never mind,” said Miss Daily absently. “If it’s all true, I have no regrets.”

“What sort of regrets might you have had?” said Carmody.

“Never you mind, never you mind,” she crooned. “So, tomorrow I come face-to-face at last with Master Fessenden. Good!”

* * *

At the Acme Grille, shortly after eight the next morning, Sterling and Carmody rehearsed Stanley Broom for the drama he was about to enact before Miss Daily in the Stockholders’ Records Section.

Broom was dressed flamboyantly, and wore an insolent sneer that seemed to invite all the world to slap his fat face. “This can’t take long,” he said, “or I’ll get canned.”

“Fifteen minutes at the outside,” said Sterling. “We walk in together, see—and I introduce you to Carmody and Miss Daily casually. You’re stopping off to see me, your old college buddy, on your way from Monte Carlo to Catalina. Got it?”

“Check,” said Broom. “Listen, she isn’t going to take a swat at me or anything, is she?”

“Couldn’t hurt a flea,” said Sterling. “She isn’t even five feet tall, and she weighs under a hundred.”

“She could still be wiry,” said Broom.

“Naaaah. Now listen, what’s the name of your yacht?”

“The Golden Eagle, and it’s anchored at Miami Beach,” said Broom. “I may have the crew bring it around through the canal to the West Coast.”

“Who you in love with now?” said Sterling.

“Fifi. I met her at Monte Carlo, and she’s going to follow me to Catalina in a few days, at my expense. She’s got to shake off a count she was engaged to.”

“What have you given her so far?” said Sterling.

“Uh—emerald and a blue mink.”

“Silver—blue mink,” said Carmody. “OK, I’d say we’re in pretty good shape. I’ll go on back to the office, and make sure Miss Daily is there for Bomar’s grand entrance.”

* * *

Miss Daily was pink with excitement as she sat in the office, waiting for Bomar, and her breathing was shallow. She shuffled papers nervously, accomplishing nothing. Her lips moved, but made no sounds.

“Eh?” said Carmody. “What was that, Miss Daily?”

“I wasn’t speaking to you,” said Miss Daily politely. “I was getting things straight in my mind.”

“That’s the stuff. Really going to give him a piece of your mind, eh?”

“Bomar, you old dog!” said Sterling in the hall, just outside the office door. “You’re a sight for sore eyes!”

Miss Daily snapped the point on her pencil in a nervous spasm, and Sterling and Broom walked in.

Broom puffed on a preposterously big and foul cigar, and took in the office in a withering glance. “Steerage,” he said. “How can you bear it? I’ve been in here ten seconds, and it’s driving me mad.”

Miss Daily was white and trembling, but as yet speechless, fascinated.

“Do you mean to say that people really live like this?” said Broom.

“They do,” said Miss Daily in a small voice, “if they’re not too lazy or spoiled to help do the world’s work.”

“I suppose that’s an insult,” said Broom, “but not a very good one, since most of the world’s work isn’t worth doing. Besides, someone has to give his full attention to the finer things in life, or there’d be no civilization.”

“Fifi?” said Miss Daily. “Carmella? Juanita? Amber? Collette?”

“You do keep track of the stockholders down here, don’t you?” said Broom.

“I’ve told her a little about you, Bomar,” said Sterling.

“I just found out I owned stock in this thing the other day,” said Broom, “but apparently Miss Pry here has known about me all along.”

“My name is Miss Daily,” said Miss Daily, “Miss Nancy Daily.”

“Well, get off your high horse, Miss Daily,” said Broom.