The firm name meant to him big things in the past history of
Michigan's industries, and big things in the vague, large life of the
Northwest. Therefore, he was considerably surprised, on finding the
firm's Adams Street offices, to observe their comparative
insignificance.
He made his way into a narrow entry, containing merely a high desk, a
safe, some letter files, and two bookkeepers. Then, without challenge,
he walked directly into a large apartment, furnished as simply, with
another safe, a typewriter, several chairs, and a large roll-top desk.
At the latter a man sprawled, reading a newspaper. Bob looked about for
a further door closed on an inner private office, where the weighty
business must be transacted. There was none. The tall, broad, lean young
man hesitated, looking about him with a puzzled expression in his
earnest young eyes. Could this be the heart and centre of those vast and
far-reaching activities he had heard so much about?
After a moment the man in the revolving chair looked up shrewdly over
his paper. Bob felt himself the object of an instant's searching
scrutiny from a pair of elderly steel-gray eyes.
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