“I’ll damned well leave it,” he bawled.

He let me get halfway down the stairs before he called me back.

“I’m an old man,” he grumbled. “If I was ten years younger⁠—” He glared at me and worked his lips together. “I’ll give you your damned check.”

“And authority to go through with it in my own way?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll get it done now. Where’s your secretary?”

Willsson pushed a button on his bedside table and the silent secretary appeared from wherever he had been hiding. I told him: