Dritton caught his glasses as they slid down his nose, jammed them back in place and said:

“Come back here.”

We followed him down the length of the lobby, through a gate, and into an office whose door was labeled “President”⁠—old Elihu’s office. Nobody was in it.

I motioned Albury into one chair and picked another for myself. The cashier fidgeted with his back against the desk, facing both of us.

“Now, sir, will you explain this,” he said.