gave him my name and followed him to his desk which was at the end of a long room studded with desks and machines of all kinds. He took a seat behind a large, polished table which was almost bare and indicated a comfortable chair opposite him into which I dropped with a momentary feeling of relief.
Mr. Higginbotham is in Africa, he began. He won't be back for several months.
I see, said I, thinking to myself this is my way out, can't confide in any one but Mr. Higginbotham himself. Even as I did so I realized that it would be unwise to exit so quickly—the elevator runner would be expecting precisely such an eventuality.
He's on a big game hunt, added the secretary, sizing me up all the while and wondering, no doubt, whether to make short shrift of me or feel the ground further. Still affable, however, and obviously waiting for me to spill the beans.
I see, I repeated. That's too bad. Perhaps I should wait until he returns...
No, not at all—unless it's something very confidential you have to tell him. Even if he were here you would have to deal first with me. Mr. Higginbotham has many irons in the fire; this is only one of his interests. Let me assure you that anything you wish conveyed to him will receive my earnest attention and consideration.
He stopped short. It was my move.
Well sir, I began hesitatingly, but breathing a little more freely, it's not altogether easy to explain the purpose of my visit.
Excuse me, he put in, but may I ask what firm it is you represent?
He leaned forward as if expecting me to drop a card in his hand.
I'm representing myself ... Mr. Larrabee, was it? I'm a writer ... a free lance writer. I hope that doesn't put you off?
Not at all, not at all! he replied.
(Think fast now! Something original!)
You didn't have in mind an advertising campaign, did you? We really...
Oh no! I replied. Not that! I know you have plenty of capable men for that. I smiled weakly. No, it was something more general ... more experimental, shall I say?
I lingered a moment, like a bird in flight hovering over a dubious perch. Mr. Larrabee leaned forward, ears cocked to catch this something of moment.
It's like this, I said, wondering what the hell I would say next. In the course of my career I've come in contact with all manner of men, all manner of ideas. Now and then, as I move about, an idea seizes me ... I don't need to tell you that writers sometimes get ideas which practical minded individuals regards as chimerical. That is, they seem chimerical, until they have been tested.
Quite true, said Mr. Larrabee, his bland countenance open to receive the impress of my idea, whether chimerical or practicable.
It was impossible to continue the delaying tactics any longer. Out with it! I commanded myself. But out with what?
At this point, most fortunately, a man appeared from an adjoining office, holding a batch of letters in his hand. I beg pardon, he said, abut I'm afraid you'll have to stop a moment and sign these. Quite important.
Mr. Larrabee took the letters, then presented me to the man. Mr. Miller is a writer. He has a plan to present to Mr. Higginbotham.
We shook hands while Mr. Larrabee proceeded to bury his nose in the file of correspondence.
Well, said the man—his name was McAuliffe, I believe—well, sir, I must say we don't see many writers round these parts. He pulled out a cigarette case and offered me a Benson and Hedges. Thank you, I said, permitting him to light the cigarette for me. Sit down, won't you? he said. You don't mind if I chat with you a moment, I hope? One doesn't get a chance to meet a writer every day.
A few more polite parries and then he asked: Do you write books or are you a newspaper correspondent by chance?
I pretended to have done a little of everything. I put it that way as if modesty compelled it.
I see, I see, said he. How about novels?
Pause. I could see he wanted more.
I nodded. Even detective stories occasionally.
My specialty, I added, is travel and research.
His spine suddenly straightened up. Travel! Ah, I'd give my right arm to have a year off, a year to go places. Tahiti! That's the place I want to see! Ever been there?
As a matter of fact, yes, I replied. Though not for long. A few weeks, that's all. I was on my way back from the Carolines.
The Carolines? He seemed electrified now. What were you doing there, may I ask?
A rather fruitless mission, I'm afraid. I went on to explain how I had been cajoled into joining an anthropological expedition. Not that I was in any way qualified. But it was an old friend of mine—an old class- mate—who was in charge of the expedition and he had persuaded me to go along. I was to do as I pleased. If there was a book in it, fine. If not ... and so on.
Yes, yes! And what happened?
In a few weeks we were all taken violently ill. I spent the rest of my time in the hospital.
The phone on Mr. Larrabee's desk rang imperiously. Excuse me, said Mr. Larrabee, picking up the receiver.
