The assistant bookkeeper had returned from his two weeks’ vacation—most of which had been spent in the vicinity of the main offices of the C., B. and L.—feeling a little sore. He had not been treated with the respect due to a person with important interests. Certain reports which represented hours of faithful work had been looked upon as of little worth, and others—facts most difficult, even dangerous, to obtain—had been demanded . Moreover, his statement that the president of the “R. and Q.” was practically a broken-down man had been openly .  
“You don’t know him,” the manager of the C., B. and L. had declared, sitting back in his big chair. “He’s been a broken-down man for years. I’d like to be broken-down, myself, the way he is, a little while!” Eds chair creaked comfortably. “He ’s a steel trap! That ’s what he is!” he said sharply. “Look out for your fingers.”
 
The assistant bookkeeper had smiled ruefully, rubbing the fingers together. “Of course, I’ve never seen him before,” he said respectfully, “but if I know a man that ’s pretty near frazzled out—he ’s the man. There’s nothing to him but a blaze.”
 
“You don’t know him,” said the manager brusquely. He took a sealed envelope from the desk and held it out.... “When you report again, we want the names of all parties , with rates—and rebates,” he added significantly. “This won’t do, you know.” He tapped the report that had cost the assistant bookkeeper many anxious hours—lightly with his finger.
 
The bookkeeper, whose hand almost of itself had reached out for the envelope, hesitated a little.............