part amounted to two-hundred-andfifty a month.
It seemed ridiculous at first. A customer ordered fifty intercoms a month, and two-hundred-and-fifty spares on a part that was under no strain, had practically no chance of breaking, no need to be replaced. How could he expect to go unsuspected?
Yet, why not? Who was there to question it? Certainly Morton never had. Almost every company gets enough screwy orders so that sooner or later they stop worrying about what the customer is going to do. As long as they order and pay, that's enough.
Still, this was one he could trace down. Wilson Watkins Company, Los Angeles. The T didn't follow there. It was only then that he realized—Tredel & Morton. Their intercoms had been picked because their company name started with T.
It was something more of a shock, to remember, seconds later, that all their outgoing freight was handled by Higgenson. Morton said they offered special rates, so—
In Los Angeles, Tredel found the Wilson Watkins Company listed, in the classified book, as manufacturers of intercommunication and sound equipment. Manufacturers.
He tried a few radio stores first, found his intercoms on sale. There had been a slight change in them. Now the Tredel & Morton nameplate was gone, replaced by a new one: Wilson Watkins.
He went to them directly, then, and talked to Watkins. Watkins was big, bluff, red-faced and bald. He used tissues to wipe continuously at a steady stream of sweat-moisture from his face. He coughed, agonizingly, when Tredel lighted a cigarette, and looked grateful when it was immediately put out.
"Sure, we take your intercoms, change the nameplate, and sell them out here. We've never had quite the market to go into the manufacturing ourselves. We want to carry them, so we use yours. We don't like to turn down orders for them, you see, because it might mean business for items we do manufacture."
Tredel nodded. "That's understandable. I was wondering how you happened to start ordering from us. We never do much business out here, you know."
"I know. You've got a mighty good name, though. Best there is in your line. We don't try to match it, of course. I mean our stuff is all right, but not high quality like yours. Just general utility.
"Well, during the war we got an order for intercoms. We couldn't handle it and told the customer that. We hated to turn them down, because we were doing a lot of their work, and wanted to keep them happy. They needed the intercoms for a Navy job, and could get all the priorities. Well, they said they wanted to get them locally, someone who could give them help if they ran into trouble, and—"
Watkins hesitated abruptly,
