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“Do you want to know how to get anywhere or anything?”

“Oh! thanks awfully. No—I mean, yes. I'm the new copy-writer. I'm looking for the typists' room.”

“Other end of the passage.”

“Oh, I see, thanks frightfully. This place is rather confusing. Where does this staircase go to?”

“Down to a whole lot of departments—mostly group-managers' rooms and board-rooms and Mr. Pym's room and several of the Directors' rooms and the Printing.”

“Oh, I see. Thanks ever so. Where does one wash?”

“That's downstairs too. I'll show you if you like.”

“Oh, thanks—thanks most awfully.”

The other man plunged down the steep and rattling spiral as though released by a spring. Bredon followed more gingerly.

“A bit precipitous, isn't it?”

“Yes, it is. You'd better be careful. One fellow out of your department smashed himself up here the other day.”

“No, really?”

“Broke his neck. Dead when we picked him up.”

“No, did he? was he? How on earth did he come to do that? Couldn't he see where he was going?”

“Slipped, I expect. Must have been going too fast. There's nothing really wrong with the staircase. I've never had an accident. It's very well-lit.”