"The digital computer," Comstock echoes. He sips and grimaces. "A few roomfuls of that equipment would replace an acre of girls sitting in front of Typex machines." Comstock now gets a naughty, conspiratorial grin on his face, and leans forward. A drop of sweat rolls off the point of his chin and plonks into Waterhouse’s coffee. "It would also replace a lot of the stuff that Electrical Till manufactures. So, you see, there is a confluence of interests here." Comstock sets his cup down. Perhaps he is finally convinced that there is no deep stratum of good coffee concealed underneath the bad; perhaps coffee is a frivolous thing compared to the importance of what he is about to divulge. "I have been in constant touch with my higher-ups at Electrical Till, and there is intense interest in this digital computer business. Intense interest. The machinery has already been set in motion for a business deal—and, Waterhouse, I only tell you this because, as we have established, you are good at keeping secrets."