The Efficiency Expert | Page 8

Edgar Rice Burroughs
as he passed through the massive doorway into the great
general offices of the newspaper. Of course, he didn't exactly expect that he would be
ushered into the presence of the president or business manager, or that even the
advertising manager would necessarily have to pass upon his copy, but there was within
him a certain sensation that at that instant something was transpiring that in later years
would be a matter of great moment, and he was really very sorry for the publishers of the
newspaper that they did not know who it was who was inserting an ad in their Situations
Wanted column.
He could not help but watch the face of the young man who received his ad and counted

the words, as he was sure that the clerk's facial expression would betray his excitement. It
was a great moment for Jimmy Torrance. He realized that it was probably the greatest
moment of his life--that here Jimmy Torrance ceased to be, and James Torrance, Jr., Esq.,
began his career. But though he carefully watched the face of the clerk, he was finally
forced to admit that the young man possessed wonderful control over his facial
expression.
"That bird has a regular poker-face," mused Jimmy; "never batted an eye," and paying for
his ad he pocketed the change and walked out.
"Let's see," he figured; "it will he in tomorrow morning's edition. The tired business man
will read it either at breakfast or after he reaches his office. I understand that there are
three million people here in Chicago. Out of that three million it is safe to assume that
one million will read my advertisement, and of that one-million there must be at least one
thousand who have responsible positions which are, at present, inadequately filled.
"Of course, the truth of the matter is that there are probably tens of thousands of such
positions, but to be conservative I will assume that there are only one thousand, and
reducing it still further to almost an absurdity, I will figure that only ten per cent of those
reply to my advertisement. In other words, at the lowest possible estimate I should have
one hundred replies on the first day. I knew it was foolish to run it for three days, but the
fellow insisted that that was the proper way to do, as I got a lower rate.
"By taking it for three days, however, it doesn't seem right to make so many busy men
waste their time answering the ad when I shall doubtless find a satisfactory position the
first day."

CHAPTER III.
THE LIZARD.
That night Jimmy attended a show, and treated himself to a lonely dinner afterward. He
should have liked very much to have looked up some of his friends. A telephone call
would have brought invitations to dinner and a pleasant evening with convivial
companions, but he had mapped his course and he was determined to stick to it to the
end.
"There will be plenty of time," he thought, "for amusement after I have gotten a good
grasp of my new duties." Jimmy elected to walk from the theater to his hotel, and as he
was turning the corner from Randolph into La Salle a young man jostled him. An instant
later the stranger was upon his knees, his wrist doubled suddenly backward and very
close to the breaking-point.
"Wot t' hell yuh doin'?" he screamed.
"Pardon me," replied Jimmy: "you got your hand in the wrong pocket. I suppose you

meant to put it in your own, but you didn't."
"Aw, g'wan; lemme go," pleaded the stranger. "I didn't get nuthin'-- you ain't got the
goods on me."
Now, such a tableau as Jimmy and his new acquaintance formed cannot be staged at the
corner of Randolph and La Salle beneath an arc light, even at midnight, without attracting
attention. And so it was that before Jimmy realized it a dozen curious pedestrians were
approaching them from different directions, and a burly blue-coated figure was
shouldering his way forward.
Jimmy had permitted his captive to rise, but he still held tightly to his wrist as the officer
confronted them. He took one look at Jimmy's companion, and then grabbed him roughly
by the arm. "So, it's you again, is it?" he growled.
"I ain't done nuthin'," muttered the man.
The officer looked inquiringly at Jimmy.
"What's all the excitement about?" asked the latter. "My friend and I have done nothing."
"Your fri'nd and you?" replied the policeman. "He ain't no fri'nd o' yours, or yez wouldn't
be sayin' so."
"Well, I'll admit," replied Jimmy, "that possibly I haven't known him long enough to
presume to claim any close friendship, but there's no telling what time may develop."
"You don't want him pinched?"
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