Argosy All-Story Weekly, November 12, 1927 — page 158: what you’re looking at

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

632 The cop might have gone on endlessly, but Brad shook his head. ‘‘ Gosh, I don’t know! It was just a taxicab to me. I was in a rush to get married—” ‘What was the license number of said cab?” “T don’t know that—” “Or the driver’s hack license number? The number posted on the police card in plain view of passengers of said vehicle—” ~ Brad shook his head again. “I never even thought to look at it. You see, we were just getting married—” “T guess you’d better go around to Cen- ter Street,” the cop said kindly. ‘ Ask for the lost property bureau. Sometimes an honest cab driver will turn,in property to be claimed—if it isn’t too valuable. Of course if it was ready money, now—” “ There was six hundred dollars in one bag,” Brad sighed. “ Well,” said the cop, pursing his lips doubtfully, “ better report it, anyhow. You never can tell, but—”’ At the proper desk of the proper bureau the loss of Mr. and Mrs. Bradley Harper was duly entered on proper forms. “ Better keep in touch with us once in awhile,” said a police clerk. ‘‘ You never can tell.” “No,” Brad said sadly as he led his bride back into the light of day, “and what’s more, you never can tell how we’re going to find a place to lay our heads to- night—or even eat! Some wedding day—” “Brad! Haven’t we still got each other?” Alicia demanded. “I could stand anything but losing you, and if you can’t stand anything but losing me—” “T can,” Brad said promptly. “ And yow’re right. So long as I’ve got you, noth- ing else matters. And now—I’ll do some- thing about it.” In the midst of a busy street and regard- less of audience or traffic Brad kissed his newly made bride, tucked her hand under his arm and started off with the firm, pur- poseful step of the wonder-man Alicia ex- pected him to be. “Where to, Brad?” Alicia gasped, skip- ping to keep up with his long stride. “To the office of Jerome Marcy,” Brad answered firmly. ‘I didn’t mean to call for ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. a week or ten days, but now I need that job. Letter or no letter, I’m going after it. I want that job to-day!” IT. In the big, busy offices of the Jerome Marcy Company, Brad was shunted from information desk to a cool, efficient, gray- haired woman, Mr. Marcy’s secretary. To her he explained again that he wished to see Mr. Marcy personally. “Tf it is about employment with the firm I would suggest the personnel depart- ment,” the secretary smiled. ‘ That would save your time—and Mr. Marcy’s.” “It’s a personal matter,” Brad explained, equally firm if not quite so collected. No personnel department for him! He was going to see Marcy or know the reason why. He wrote his name in bold hand on a form slip and added below: “ Introduced by Colonel Miller Hale Connaught.” Brad wished devoutly he had not lost that precious letter. He had no difficulty at all recalling it in complete detail. Colonel Connaught had started out: *“* My dear old Jerry.” That was the sort of friends he and Jerome Marcy were, close as ninety-nine and one hundred. “My dear old Jerry,’ Colonel Con- naught had said, “‘ this will be handed to you in person by a young and very dear friend of mine, Mr. Bradley Harper. Brad Harper is calling on you at my own earnest solicitation, and I am confident that fifteen minutes’ conversation with him will con- vince you that you cannot afford to let him walk out of your office until you have his name on the dotted line of a contract. Tf I am anything, Jerry, I’m a judge of men, and when I say that of all the young fellows I have sent your way to fill execu- tive positions in your organization, Harper is by far the most promising, I am staking my reputation on those words!” The letter went on in that vein. Brad could remember it all right, but there was not room to write it on the slip under his name. It didn’t seem to him there would be much use even in reciting it to Marcy. But somehow he must make Marcy believe in him, nce, (eo) DOOKS mie 7 (EO)