Adventure Magazine, March 1916 — page 123: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Too Much Business profit on jars in thirty days. Want leave of ab- sence for that time, and liberty to draw on you up to five thousand dollars, Am neither drunk nor crazy. Rush answer. Matt sent this off and strode over from the telegraph booth to the desk. He spoke to the clerk in charge: “Say, Jimmy, give me the name of a law- yer whose rent is pressing him. A young chap who’ll think a ten-spot looks as big as a bedquilt.”’ “Harry Williams. He'll either go to Con- gress or states prison one of these days,” volunteered Jimmy. Matt made a note of this promising per- son’s address and went out. He crossed the street to the Doyle laundry and entered it. A black-haired, gray-eyed, trim young wom- an was the only occupant of the office. She was seated at a table behind the counter, checking up wash-tickets. She paused in this task and glanced an inquiry at Matt. “Good morning,’ he responded. ‘Is Mrs. Doyle in?” “She is out back,” said the young wom- an, ‘Can I do anything for you? I am Miss Doyle.” “Oh!” Matt smiled on her approvingly. “My name is Bailey. Glad to meet you, _ Miss Doyle. Perhaps you will answer my question: if I bring you in some business— quite a good deal—what commission would you pay?” Miss Doyle got up and approached the counter. She returned Matt’s smile faintly; for he was a presentable young fellow, up- standing and of a well-balanced self-assur- ance that claimed attention. “How much business?” she asked. “Ten dollars’ worth?” | Matt made a reproachful gesture. “Do I look as cheap as that? Say a hun- dred dollars—more perhaps! You don’t care how much it is, do you?” Miss Kitty Doyle surveyed him carefully, and with a small frown gathering between her eyes. It became her, Matt thought, this studious pose. She was, he perceived, a very pretty girl. “Do you mean a week, a month, or what?” she demanded. “A hundred dollars a day — perhaps more,’ Matt answered. He seemed to in- sist on the proviso. ‘And every day for ten weeks,” he added. | __ Miss Doyle showed him a straight and shapely back as she returned to the table. “You can take your joking somewhere else,” she remarked icily. ‘We are busy here.”’ “TI was never quite so much in earnest in my life,’”’ Matt assured her, tapping the counter with his finger for emphasis. “TI have discovered a way to get more business E2i for laundries; but I must know what com- mission I can count on before putting my plan in operation. That’s fair, isn’t it?” “You will have to see Mrs. Doyle,’ the girl flung at him without looking up. “That was my desire in the first place,” he reminded her. “But I am sure you can answer if you will. It won’t commit you to anything, you know—not until I sign you up.’ She raised her head and fixed him with a mocking eye; and she said, making her ut- terance laboredly distinct: “Tf it will get me rid of you—fifteen per — cent., when, as you say, we ‘sign up’ with you. Until then—— She turned to her work. Matt held the silence till it wore on her. She looked at him again, plainly disturbed. Then he spoke: “You are much too young, I fear, to ap- preciate what I have to offer, I will call when your mama is at leisure.”’ He bowed with a fatherly air that left her peony pink, and took himself off. So, a hundred dollars a day was a proposition that set them going! Great Scott, what would they say to a thousand a day? Have him locked up, probably, and tried for lu- nacy. He came to a tiny park in the embrace of three streets. He sat down beneath a pa- triarchal elm and held counsel with himself. Was he on the wrong track, or was the plan, actively shaping in, his mind—taking on new angles every minute—practical of ap- plication? He lit a cigar, pulled out pencil and paper, — and lost sight of his whereabouts in a maze of figures. At the end of half an hour he rose with a satisfied sigh. The problem had worked out right, all except the commission. They would have to give up more than fif- teen per cent. Miss Kitty Doyle was too frugally inclined. i nv granted leave to consult a Brad- SS! way to the White Star Laundry, Mr. An- drew Shifter, proprietor. Mr. Shifter was Gomichbooks street’s, after which he found his. SA MATT stepped into a bank and was — com