The Argosy, Christmas 1912 — page 209: what you’re looking at

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

WIZARD OR CROOK. down at the floor, and uneasily shuf- fling his feet. “Answer me.” ‘“ I—I couldn’t help it, sir.” “ Couldn’t help it?” “ No, sir. I knew I had no business to bring that card in to you; but— but—” He flushed guiltily, and seemed to become more confused than ever. “ Well, sir, that young fellow some- how has a way of getting what he wants.” “H-m. He has, has he?” Again McConnell’s eyes narrowed to a glance of suspicious scrutiny. “I guess,” he decided, “ that I'll take a look at him for myself. Tell him to-come in.” Then, as the messenger turned away, a sudden realization came to the com- missioner which twisted his lips into a wry sort of a smile. ‘Has a way of getting what he wants, eh?” he muttered. “‘ Well, by Jove, it begins to look like it when I give up my valuable time to a chap with an errand like his!” CHAPTER II. SOME REVELATIONS. McConneELL had pictured to him- self, from Charlie’s description, a forceful, swaggering sort of type— something of a cross between the bouncer of a Bowery saloon and the persuasive- -tongued advance man of a ‘ten, twent’ and thirt’” repertoire company; but, to his surprise, the vis- itor who edged deprecatingly into his presence was meek, mild, and unim- posing as buttermilk. “ He looks like a cartoonist’s idea of a kid from Boston,” thought the com- missioner, turning away to hide a grin; and, indeed, the swift characterization was far from inexact, in view of its subject’s round, moon face adorned by a pair of enormous, heavy-lensed spec- tacles, and the attenuated frame mani- festly too small for his bulging head. McConnell promptly repented the rash impulse which had led him into rupted the applicant. 195 granting an interview. His manner showed plainly that he intended to make the incident brief as decency would permit. “Your name’s Ramsdell, eh?” he grunted, refreshing his memory by a glance at the card he still held between his fingers. “Yes, sir.” thin, high-pitched voice. broke Ramsdell.” It was beyond human nature to re- sist such a chance for a rise. ‘Some class to that, isn’t there?” McConnell commented in mock admi- ration. ‘‘ What’s the ‘FE,’ for?” “ Elizur,” confessed Ramsdell. - No, n no. Elizur, with an ‘ur,’ I merely use the initial, however, be- cause so many people fall into the same error as you; and Eliza is a feminine name, you know.” He made the explanation quite placidly, and evidently without the slightest suspicion that he was being rigged; so the commissioner, feeling a trifle flat, returned a bit hastily to the task of getting rid of him. “You want a position on the force, eh?” he said bruskly. “ Well, I'm sorry; but I don’t believe I can help you. You will have to make applica- tion through the regular channels, and—’”’ “Yes, yes, I know all that,” inter- ‘“ But, you see, Mr. Commissioner, I ain not after a position on the uniformed force.” “No?” rejoined McConnell, with a slightly ironic inflection. He was about to inquire if it was a job as in- spector or deputy commissioner that the other had in mind; but Ramsdell was already proceeding. “No,” he repeated. “ I am inclined to consider the detective bureau the proper field for my talents.” “Oh,” groaned McConnell to him- self, “one of those ginks with the Sherlock Holmes bug in his nut! What he ought to do is send a quarter off to some fake detective agency and get a The caller spoke in a “FE. Boling- cComicbooks CO