Chapter 1

Pitcher, confidential clerk in the office of Harvey Maxwell, broker, allowed a look of mild interest and surprise to visit his usually expressionless countenance when his employer briskly entered at half past nine in company with his young lady stenographer. With a snappy Good-morning, Pitcher, Maxwell dashed at his desk as though he were intending to leap over it, and then plunged into the great heap of letters and telegrams waiting there for him.

The young lady had been Maxwell's stenographer for a year. She was beautiful in a way that was decidedly unstenographic. She forewent the pomp of the alluring pompadour. She wore no chains, bracelets or lockets. She had not the air of being about to accept an invitation to luncheon. Her dress was grey and plain, but it fitted her figure with fidelity and discretion. In her neat black turban hat was the gold-green wing of a macaw. On this morning she was softly and shyly radiant. Her eyes were dreamily bright, her cheeks genuine peachblow, her expression a happy one, tinged with reminiscence.

Pitcher, still mildly curious, noticed a difference in her ways this morning. Instead of going straight into the adjoining room, where her desk was, she lingered, slightly irresolute, in the outer office. Once she moved over by Maxwell's desk, near enough for him to be aware of her presence.

The machine sitting at that desk was no longer a man; it was a busy New York broker, moved by buzzing wheels and uncoiling springs.

Well--what is it Anything asked Maxwell sharply. His opened mail lay like a bank of stage snow on his crowded desk. His keen grey eye, impersonal and brusque, flashed upon her half impatiently.

Nothing, answered the stenographer, moving away with a little smile.

    证券经纪人哈维·马克斯韦尔于九点半在年轻女速记员陪同下步履轻快地来到办公室。机要秘书皮彻那通常毫无表情的面孔不禁露出一丝好奇和诧异。马克斯韦尔只随口道了声“早上好”，便径直奔向办公桌，匆忙得好像想一步跨过桌面，随后就一头扎进一大堆等着他处理的信件和电报。

　　年轻女郎给马克斯韦尔当速记员已经有一年。她异常秀美动人，绝非速记员草草几笔所能简单描述。她不愿采用华丽诱人的庞巴杜式发型，不戴项链、手镯或鸡心。她脸上没有随时准备受邀外出进餐的神气。她的灰色衣服素净朴实，但却生动勾勒出她的身材而不失典雅。她那顶精巧的黑色无边帽上插了根艳绿色金刚鹦鹉毛。今天早上，她春风飘逸，温柔而羞涩。她的眼睛流波瞑瞑，双颊桃红妖娆，满面乐融，又略带一丝回味。

　　好奇之余，皮彻发现今天她的举止也有点儿异样。她没有直接到放有她办公桌的里间办公室去，而是滞留在外间办公室，有点儿拿不定主意似的。她慢慢蹭到马克斯韦尔桌边，离他很近，足以让他意识到她的存在。

　　坐在办公桌前的他已经不再是个常人，而是一个繁忙的纽约证券经纪人，一架完全受嗡嗡作响的轮子和张开的弹簧所驱动的机器。

　　“嘿，怎么啦？有事？”马克斯韦尔问，语气尖刻。那些拆开的邮件堆了满满一桌，就像演戏用的假雪。他那锐利的灰蓝色眼睛，毫无人情味儿，严厉粗暴，不耐烦地盯着她。

　　“没什么，”速记员回答说，然后微笑着走开了。