This refreshing beverage filled him with new energy to tackle the issues of the day, and thereupon began a routine as fixed as some religious ritual.

First, he smacked his lips, then he cleared his throat loudly several times, after which his chair creaked as he massaged his rheumatic leg.
Promptly upon the count of twenty he emerged from the inner office, slamming the door energetically behind him.
Whether "Bob" was alone or engaged with clients, Old Tom's air was always the same; it was that of a busy man weighted with grave responsibilities.

He frowned; he muttered, hurriedly: "Got to see a man; back in an hour.

Anybody calls, tell 'em to wait." This took him to the front door, which he also slammed behind him--there being a certain force and determination to the sound of a slamming door.

Then he limped down the street to Judge Halloran's office.