This is Devlin Tracy. That’s T-R-A-C-Y. May I speak with the honorable Mr. Walter Marks, please?” Would wonders never cease, Chico thought as she sat on a chair in the office and listened to the telephone conversation. Trace being polite to the secretary of Walter Marks. The poor woman was probably rolling on the floor, holding her chest. “No, of course I do not mind telling you what my business is,” Trace said. “I have decided to accept an assignment that Mr. Walter Marks has so graciously offered to me.” He winked at Chico and covered the telephone with his hand. “You can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar,” he said. Quickly uncovering the phone, he said, “No, of course not, madam. It’s Devlin Tracy. T-R-A-C-Y. “My company? Of course. My company is that noble institution for which you work. The Garrison Fidelity Life Insurance Company. And I have news that will delight the right honorable Mr. Walter Marks.” Trace winked at Chico again. “The name is Tracy,”
