Success story by James gould cozzens?

Mr. Prossert was very affable. He asked me a number of questions. I knew the job well enough and could have answered almost any intelligent question - I mean, the sort that a trained engineer would be likely to ask. As it was, I suppose I'd said for perhaps the third time, "I'm afraid I wouldn't know, sir. We haven't any calculations on that," getting a glance of mildly surprised disbelief, when Richards suddenly spoke up. "I think, about nine million cubic feet, sir," he said. He looked boyishly embarrassed. "I just happened to be working it out last night. Just for my own interest, that is. Not officially." He blushed.

"Oh," said Mr. Prossert, turning in his seat and giving him a sharp look. "That's very interesting, Mr. - er - Richards, isn't it? Well, now, maybe you could tell me about - "

Richards could. He knew everything. He knew to the last car the capacity of every switch and yard; he knew the load limits of every bridge and culvert, he knew the average rainfall for the last twenty years; he knew the population of the various straggling villages we passed through; he knew the heights of the distant blue peaks to the west. He had made himself familiar with local labor costs and wage scales. He had the statistics on accidents and unavoidable delays. He had figured out the cost of moving a cubic yard of earth at practically every cut and fill. All the way up Mr. Prossert fired questions at him and he fired answers right back.

When we reached the railhead, a motor was waiting to take Mr. Prossert on. Getting out of the gas car, he nodded absent-mindedly to me, shook hands with Richards. "Very interesting indeed," he said. "Very interesting indeed, Mr. Richards. Goodbye and thank you."

"Not at all, sir," Richards said. "Glad if I could be of service to you."

As soon as the motor moved off, I exploded. "Of all the asinine tricks! A little honest bluff doesn't hurt; but some of your so-called figures - "

"I aim to please," Richards said, grinning. "If a man like Prossert wants to know something, who am I to hold out on him?"

"I suppose you think you're smart," I told him. "What's he going to think when he looks up the figures or asks somebody who does know?"

"Listen, my son," said Richards kindly. "He wasn't asking for any information he was going to use. He doesn't want to know those figures. If he ever does, he has plenty of people to get him the right ones. He won't remember these. I don't even remember them myself. What he is going to remember is you and me."

"Oh yes?"

"Oh, yes," said Richards firmly. "He's going to remember that Panamerica Steel & Structure has a bright young man named Richards who could tell him everything he wanted to know when he wanted to know it - just the sort of chap he can use; not like that other fellow who took no interest in his job, couldn't answer the simplest question, and who's going to be doing small-time contracting in Cuba all his life."

"Oh, yeah?" I said. But it is true that I am still in Cuba, still doing a little work in the construction line.