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To him Louis gave his card with a request that it be handed to Mr. Peebleby, then he seated himself and for an hour witnessed a parade of unsmiling, silk-hatted gentlemen pass in and out of Mr. Peebleby's office. Growing impatient, at length, he inquired of the boy; "Is somebody dead around here or is this where the City Council meets?" "I beg pardon?" The lad was polite in a cool, superior way.
Invariably he walked into the general offices unannounced; invariably he made a new friend before he came out. Peebleby seemed to like him; in fact asked his opinion on certain forms of structure and voluntarily granted the young man two days of grace. Two days! They were like oxygen to a dying man.
Can you have it ready by Saturday, three days from now?" Mitchell laughed. "It's a ten days' job for two men." "I know, but we can't wait." "Then give me until Tuesday; I'm used to a twenty-four-hour shift now. Meanwhile I'd like to leave these figures here for your chief draftsman to examine. Of course they are not to be considered binding." "Isn't that a bit er foolish?" inquired Peebleby?
He pushed a button and five minutes later a clerk staggered back into the room with an armful of blueprints that caused Mitchell to gasp. "The bid must be in Thursday at ten-thirty," Peebleby announced. "Thursday? Why, good Lord! That's only three days, and there's a dray-load of drawings!" "I told you it was a waste of time. You should have come sooner."
Just show me the trail and I'll take it myself. That's a way we have in America." A moment later he was knocking at a door emblazoned, "Director General." Without awaiting an invitation, he turned the knob and walked in. Before the astonished Mr. Peebleby could expostulate he had introduced himself and was making known his mission.
Generally the younger the salesman the greater the improvement." In Mitchell's own parlance he "beat Mr. Peebleby to the punch." "If that's the case, you've got a rotten line of engineers," he frankly announced. "Indeed! I went over those drawings myself. I flattered myself that they were comprehensive and up-to-date." Mr. Peebleby was annoyed, nevertheless he was visibly interested and curious.
"I've come for that job, and I'm going to take it back with me," Mitchell averred, with equal firmness. "I know more about this class of work than any salesman you have over here, and I'm going to build you the finest cluster of cyanide tanks you ever saw." "May I ask where you obtained this comprehensive knowledge of tank construction?" Mr. Peebleby inquired, with some curiosity. "Sure!"
But, meanwhile, now that I'm in London, I have some business with Mr. Peebleby." Mitchell produced an American silver dollar and forced it into the boy's hand, whereupon the latter blinked in a dazed manner, then hazarded the opinion that Mr. Peebleby might be at leisure if Mr. Mitchell had another card. "Never mind the card; I can't trust you with another one.
How to Build Them; Where to Buy Them." It was the old story of a man who had learned his work thoroughly and who loved it. Mitchell typified the theory of specialization; what he knew, he knew completely, and before he had more than begun his talk these men recognized that fact. When he had finished, Mr. Peebleby announced that the bids would not be opened that day.
Peebleby, and went softly out in their high hats, their pearl gloves, and their spats more like pall-bearers now than ever. "Six hundred and thirty-seven thousand five hundred pounds sterling!" said the Director General. "By Jove, Mitchell, I'm glad!" They shook hands. "I'm really glad." "That's over three million dollars in real money," said the youth. "It's quite a tidy little job."
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