ing a
short cut through a kind of arcade like one of the covered shopping ways
which one sees in some English towns, especially in Birmingham. There
was a large number of little shops in it, luncheon places, barbers'
shops, newspaper stalls, tobacconists' stalls, florists' stalls, and
sweet shops, which displayed an enormous variety of candies. We were in
the very centre of the business part of the city, a part to which women
hardly ever go, unless they are typists or manicure girls. Above our
heads were offices, tiers and tiers of them. I wondered why there were
so many florists' shops and sweet shops. The American business man must,
I imagine, have a gentle and childlike heart. No one who has lost his
first innocence would require such a supply of flowers and chocolate at
his office door.

There were lifts on each side of this arcade, dozens of them, in cages.
Some were labelled "Express" and warned passengers that they would make
no stop before the eleventh floor. I should have liked very much to make
a journey in an express lift, and I hoped that Ascher's office might
turn out to be on the 25th or perhaps the 30th floor of the building. I
was disappointed. Gorman hurried us on.

We emerged into the open air and found ourselves in a narrow, crooked
street along which men were hurrying in great numbers and at high speed.
On both sides of it were enormously tall houses. There was just one
building, right opposite to us, which was of English height. It was not
in the least English in any other way. It was white and very dignified.
Its lines were severely classical. It had tall, narrow windows and
a door which somehow reminded me of portraits of the first Duke of
Wellington. The architect may perhaps have been thinking of the great
soldier's nose. Gorman walked straight up to that door.

"Here we are," he said.

"Surely," I said, "this Greek temple can't be Ascher's office?"

"This is the exact spot."

"Tell me," I said, "do we take off our shoes at the threshold or say
grace, or perform some kind of ceremonial lustration? We can't go in
just as we are."

Gorman did not answer me. He went through the door, the terribly
impressive door, without even bowing. There was nothing for me to do but
follow him. Tim followed me, nursing his cash register as if it had been
a baby, a very heavy and awkwardly shaped baby.

We passed into the outer office. At the first glance it seemed to
me like a very orderly town. It was