A Chicago Lawyer Sees Sam I 109

Out on the avenue Yager saw the squat, brown pile of a church; it sat almost diagonally opposite. He crossed and walked past it, turning into Twenty-first Street. Yep, there was Calvary House all right.

Inside, the girl at the switchboard seemed to be expecting him. “Make yourself at home.” She pointed to the lobby. “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait.”

Yager knew how to wait. He sat down recalling people who over the years had waited for him in Chicago. It was maybe 4:45. The receptionist had a suggestion: “Why don’t you go up to the second floor? Mr. Shoemaker’s secretary is still there.”

Good idea. The lawyer took the elevator to the second floor, and sure enough, from across a charming but dimly lighted room he heard a typewriter.

“I’m Yager Cantwell,” he announced at the door of an inner office.

“Oh!” gasped the same voice he had heard earlier over Miss

Nicholl’s telephone. “You scared me. I’m Marian and I’m afraid

I’m about to go home. It looks as if you’re plain out of luck. Mr.

Shoemaker is still busy and I guess he won’t be able to see you

tonight after all.”

“H-m-m-m. Yeah.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Marian sighed and added, “I honestly don’t know what to say. If you could stay over and telephone him in the morning, that is, if you must see him personally. Perhaps the two of you could make some arrangement. He’s got a terrible day tomorrow, too. He’s really a pretty busy man.”

“H-rn-rn-rn,” repeated the lawyer. “Well, thanks, and please don’t let me keep you. I’ll just sit outside here awhile longer.”

Back at his hotel Yager called the airline and rescheduled his flight for Thursday afternoon. It all seemed a bit confusing, but two sure facts stood out: he was to “see Sam” and, by George, he could and would do it. The dinner date was cancelled and, in due course, he introduced himself to Sam Shoemaker over the ‘phone on Thursday morning about 9:15. The latter’s appointment book was solid for the day.

CANTWELL: “Well, you’ve got to eat. How about lunch?”

SHOEMAKER: “Can’t possibly do it. There’s a man here from out of town.”

CANTWELL: “Dinner?”