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another, but there was a limit.
    He took the lift to the top floor and stepped straight on to a thick pile, cherry-coloured carpet. This was Peamarsh's directors'
    sanctum.
    There was a wide oak-panelled corridor with two doors on either side.
    The name plates on the doors said: "Mr. Arthur McMullan'; " Mr. Tom Vosey'; "Mr. Frank Noland'; the fourth door said " Gentlemen'. The corridor opened into a hallway studded with more doors. These were named: "Mr. Graham Hall'; " Mr. Peter Waters'; "Mr. David Rippon'.
    Another door had on it the simple statement " Boardroom'.
    He thrust open the door marked "Rippon'. Miss Bateman was sitting behind her desk. She looked up and said, " Oh, Mr. Blenheim, I was just going to ring the pool. "
    "Oh, that's all right, Miss Bateman. As I said there's no hurry, I just want a word with Mr. Rippon."
    "He was on the 'phone a moment ago. I'll see if he's free."
    She pressed a 'button and listened, and said, "He's still on but I don't suppose he'll be a minute. Take a seat, Mr. Blenheim."
    It was all very formal; it was always formal with Miss Bateman. He could call his own secretary Ada, but he would never dream of calling Miss Bateman, Marie.
    Miss Bateman was a power in Peamarsh's. Before the building had been reconstructed and the top floor given over to the directors Miss Bateman had run the staff, and this included the men in the packing department, and now, not because she ner domain of power reached only to the floor below, where she continued to wield it firmly; except over Ada Cole, who, having worked in Peamarsh's longer than Miss Bateman, would have none of it. Harry had always been vaguely surprised that his own able but timid secretary refused to be pushed around by The Paragon.
    Marie Bateman was in her early forties. She was of medium height and thin, and from her fair hair to her long narrow feet she was perfectly groomed. Altogether she gave off a kind of restrained elegance, which deceived you into thinking she could at one time have been pretty.
    Looking at her now. Harry understood why she intimidated most people.
    But no matter how off-putting her manner, she was a good business woman and secretary, or else his demanding father-in-law would never have kept her on.
    "He's finished now."
    "Thanks." He tapped on the communicating door and went in to Dave Rippon's office. "
    "Hello there. I expected you."
    Harry paused in the middle of the room and Dave Rippon added, "I knew Esther wouldn't be able to keep that."
    "Keep what?"
    "Keep what! The car, of course. I told her not to mention it until after the holidays, but that's women for you, same all over. Sit down, sit down. Well what do you think? Do you want it?"
    "This is the first I've heard of it. You mean your car ?"
    "Oh, so she didn't tell you then." Dave Rippon leant back in his high-backed, black swivel chair and laughed. It was a small sound coming from so large a man. Then he passed his hand over his forehead and on to his thick greying hair before he said, "Well, I'm ready for a change, it's over two years. Esther said you liked it."
    "Yes ... yes I like it." His tone held no enthusiasm.
    "But you always put your old one in for exchange, don't you?"
    "Usually. But that one of yours must be dropping to. bits."
    "It's a good car, it's only five years old."
    "Only five 1' The voice was scornful.
    "It might as well be fifty.
    Anyway there it is, it's up to you. As you know, it cost me nearly two thousand. They'll give me fourteen hundred for it or more but I'll let you have it for twelve fifty. It's up to you. "
    Harry looked at his father-in-law, at his round fleshy face, at his round pale blue eyes, which you could have called a sailor's eyes, far-seeing; and the description was certainly true in his father-in-law's case for Dave Rippon was far-seeing where Dave Rippon was concerned. People said he was a handsome man, a fine figure of a man, a man you would never put fifty- five years to, fifty yes, even forty-five on some