Some petty matter involving a half million or so, Dudley smiled to himself as he sat at his own desk in the outer office and waited. His news would hold. It was big enough. When he saw his uncle's fat, perspiring visitor come out, he walked in as nonchalantly as he possibly could and, standing before Sanford Drake, said simply, "Chartres has signed."
"No!" ejaculated Drake.
"Here is the contract," and Dudley produced it from his precious briefcase which he had taken the precaution to bring in with him. He pointed to the Frenchman's scrawl.
"Well, well, you put it over. And to tell the truth, Dudley, I didn't think you had a Chinaman's chance. I understood Hodge and Story had him tied fast. Well, I certainly congratulate you from the bottom of my heart." He held out his hand and motioned Dudley to a chair beside his desk. "It's more of a personal triumph for you than it is for the firm, that's sure, and you deserve full credit. I've watched you; you've worked like a dog. But you've made good with a vengeance and I hope the reward will be worth it."
He shot over his shoulder to his secretary who occupied a desk in back of him, "Miss Gorman, bring my checkbook, please." While Dudley wondered what was up, the old man wrote a check for $25,000 in Dudley's favor,
