"Hale," he said with humorous disapproval, "I knew you were a phony the minute after you walked into my office. Bums don't stand up for their rights when they look as lousy as you do. They shuffle and whine. That was your mistake. But I'll say this: You're damned clever. You challenged me to see through your disguise, and I like challenges. There probably isn't a better judge of men than I am. Tell you how I knew you weren't a real bum: the soles of your shoes weren't worn through!"
Hale grinned unashamedly, and his grin flattered Banner, who, of course, hadn't had a chance to see the soles of Hale's shoes until he had told Hale to sit down. Banner went on: "I really can't do anything about my daughter. But I will give you a job. Fifty a week. That's just a starter."
Still grinning, Hale shook his head. "I want a hundred thousand a year."
Banner choked, but came up laughing between coughs. "I must say, when it comes to plain, unvarnished gall, you've got me beaten. Thought I was pretty good. I'll make it five thousand a year. That's final."
"A hundred thousand."
Hale's set grin began to irk Banner. "You're serious, aren't you? Well, get it out of your mind. I can stand crust, but you're talking like a lunatic. Ten thousand."
Hale opened his mouth. What he intended to say was not very clear, but at that instant a man entered.
"Mason," said Banner curtly, "this is Hale."
"How do you do, Mr. Hale," replied Mason uncertainly. He made a couple of imperceptible motions with his right hand, as if unable to decide whether to offer it.
"I've just hired Hale," Banner continued. "Give him a fifty-dollar advance on his salary. Take him around to my barber and my tailor, and give him the works. Get him a steam bath and a rubdown at my club. And you, Hale. Take the day off. Get yourself an apartment you won't be ashamed of, and be at work at ten tomorrow. No, come back here before closing, say at four. That's all."
Hale put his battered hat on jauntily. "You're a shrewd, hard man, Mr. Banner. I'll get the better of you yet."
"Just try it," replied Banner confidently. "You'll be the first."
Without seeming too obviously distant, but contriving to look as if they were accidentally going the same way. Mason steered Hale out of the office.
Chapter IV
Alone again, Hale ambled along Park Avenue. He carefully avoided enjoying his cleanliness and his clothes. To him they were scientific instruments, like the gun and the knife, which he had transferred to the pockets of his new overcoat. He was another step further in his campaign, but he didn't mistake the means for the end. His ten-thousand-a-year job and his clothes were neither more nor less important than the whiskers he had raised and the night he had spent in the flophouse. They were all necessary parts of the plan.
He stopped at a high, creamy, clean-looking apartment house and sought out the renting agent, a breathlessly enthusiastic young woman.
"Something not too ostentatious," she judged, studying his appearance. "Not too large."
"No," he contradicted gently. "Quite large. An entire floor. I'd prefer a penthouse."
"I have just the thing! The top floor is vacant. Isn't that lucky? Oh, you'll love it! It's simply adorable!"
By normal standards it was several sizes too large to be adorable. Counting servants' quarters, solarium, and gymnasium, it was twenty-nine rooms.
"Not bad," he said languidly. "I believe it will do."
"Oh, how splendid!" the agent gushed. "I knew you'd love it. Have you seen the view?" She herded him out to the promenade on top of the first setback. "It isn't very clear today, but when it is, you can see ever so far over New Jersey. Long Island — and the Bronx," she finished lamely. "I'm sure you'll be deliriously happy here. How soon would you like to take occupancy?"
"Immediately. I'll have the furniture sent up. You'll supervise its placing, of course."
"Of course! I just love to arrange furniture."
"When the car comes, let it stand outside the door. Show the chauffeur his room. The servants will arrive shortly. One of them will ask you for a floor plan. Give it to him. I believe that's all."
She trailed hesitantly after him. "Mr. Hale, I don't know how to put it —"
He stared coldly at her. When she merely looked embarrassed, he said: "Of course, the money. My secretary will take care of it through my office. Call Banner Advertising Co. for references."
"Oh, I hope you don't mind. It's just a formality, you know. You do understand, don't you, Mr. Hale?"
The maroon car was enormously long and sleek — the one car that would stand out on Park Avenue. Hale entered the agency and told the salesman that that was the car he wanted.
"You'll be completely satisfied with it, sir," the man promised. "We can give you almost immediate delivery. Three weeks."
"I'm not in the habit of waiting," Hale replied frigidly. "This is the car I want. I'll take it now."
The salesman swallowed uneasily. "That isn't customary, sir."
"I don't care if it isn't. I'll take this car as soon as you can get it out of the window."
"I'll have to speak to the manager —"
"And tell him," Hale said frostily, "that this will be a cash transaction."
While the salesman whispered awedly to the manager, Hale gazed indifferently at the car. The manager came over and said: "We'll be delighted to let you have our display car, sir. Of course, it will take an hour or so to remove. Suppose we have it delivered to you. Will that be all right, sir?"
"Fine," said Hale unenthusiastically.
"You spoke of a cash transaction, sir —"
"Naturally. My secretary will arrange the details. You may call Banner Advertising Co."
"Banner, sir? I'm sure everything is all right. But, you understand, I really must call them. Just routine, you know." A moment later he was talking very respectfully into the instrument, his pleased face nodding. Then he beamed. "Everything is settled, Mr. Hale. Mr. Banner would like to speak to you."
Hale took up the telephone. "Hello."
"What the hell are you doing, Hale?" Banner cried. "First I get a call from a Park Avenue apartment house asking if you're responsible, and now I get a call from this car company. Just what — You're not getting a hundred thousand, you know. I know you've got big ideas, but aren't you going way over your means?"
"I know," Hale said smoothly. "I can handle it. Don't worry about me, Mr. Banner."
"Well, if you think you're doing right," said Banner doubtfully. "Oh, hell! Of course you know what you're doing. Just don't overplay your hand. Go ahead."
Hale hung up, arranged for a chauffeur with the manager, and left. The manager and salesman saw him out, leering politely.
Hale reasoned that, while his clothes and his job helped, the real secret lay in the manner. For example, the more servants he demanded, the less the woman who ran the domestic employment agency would question his financial standing.
You look at her without the slightest touch of warmth or intimacy, and you say, as Hale did: "I want a complete staff for a twenty-nine-room apartment. The chauffeur is already hired. The others I will leave to you."
And she cries gratefully: "Oh, yes, sir. We take only servants with the very best references."
"Splendid," you reply unemotionally. "The ones I demand perfection in are the chef — I do a great deal of entertaining — and the butler and the valet. They must be the most efficient ones you have."
She darted to the waiting room with the alertness of a sparrow, and produced two men in snug black coats, with appropriately distant expressions and authentic London accents. These she introduced as Cummings, butler, and Hamilton, valet. "I'm sure you'll be completely satisfied, Mr. Hale."