Torchy, Private Sec.

Torchy, Private Sec., by Sewell
Ford

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Title: Torchy, Private Sec.
Author: Sewell Ford
Illustrator: F. Foster Lincoln
Release Date: February 19, 2007 [EBook #20627]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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PRIVATE SEC. ***

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By SEWELL FORD

TORCHY TRYING OUT TORCHY ON WITH TORCHY TORCHY,
PRIVATE SEC. ODD NUMBERS "Shorty McCabe" SHORTY
McCABE ON THE JOB
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[Illustration: "Why didn't you tell me before that you had such a grand
name?" Frontispiece]
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TORCHY, PRIVATE SEC.
BY SEWELL FORD
AUTHOR OF TORCHY, TRYING OUT TORCHY, ON WITH
TORCHY, ETC.
ILLUSTRATIONS BY F. FOSTER LINCOLN
NEW YORK GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS
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COPYRIGHT, 1914, 1915, BY SEWELL FORD
COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY EDWARD J. CLODE
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CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. The Up Call for Torchy 1 II. Torchy Makes the Sir Class 19 III.
Torchy Takes a Chance 37 IV. Breaking It to the Boss 56 V. Showing
Gilkey the Way 75 VI. When Skeet Had His Day 95 VII. Getting a Jolt
from Westy 113 VIII. Some Guesses on Ruby 129 IX. Torchy Gets an
Inside Tip 148 X. Then Along Came Sukey 170 XI. Teamwork with

Aunty 188 XII. Zenobia Digs Up a Late One 206 XIII. Sifting Out
Uncle Bill 223 XIV. How Aunty Got the News 243 XV. Mr. Robert
and a Certain Party 259 XVI. Torchy Tackles a Short Circuit 275 XVII.
Mr. Robert Gets a Slant 290 XVIII. When Ella May Came By 306 XIX.
Some Hoop-la for the Boss 323
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TORCHY, PRIVATE SEC.
CHAPTER I
THE UP CALL FOR TORCHY
Well, it's come! Uh-huh! And sudden, too, like I knew it would, if it
came at all. No climbin' the ladder for me, not while they run express
elevators. And, believe me, when the gate opened, I was right there
with my foot out.
It was like this: One mornin' I'm in my old place behind the brass rail,
at the jump-end of the buzzer. I'm everybody's slave in general, and
Piddie's football in particular. You know--head office boy of the
Corrugated Trust.
That's description enough, ain't it? And I'd been there so long----
Honest, when I first went on the job I used to sneak the city directory
under the chair so my toes could touch. Now my knees rub the
under-side of the desk. Familiar with the place? Say, there are just
seventeen floor cracks between me and the opposite wall; it's fifty-eight
steps through into Old Hickory's roll-top and back; and the ink I've
poured into all them desk-wells would be enough to float a ferry-boat.
At 8.30 on this special mornin' there I am, as I said; and at 2.21 P.M.
the same day I'm---- Well, of course, there was a few preliminaries,
though I didn't tag 'em as such when they come along. I expect the new
spring costume helped some. And the shave--oh, I was goin' it strong!

No cut-price, closing-out, House-of-Smartheimer bargain, altered free
to fit--not so, Lobelia! Why, I pawed over whole bales of stuff in a
sure-enough Fifth-ave. tailor works; had blueprint plans of the front
and side elevations drawn, even to the number of buttons on the cuffs,
and spent three diff'rent noon hours havin' it modeled on me before
they could pull a single bastin' thread.
But it's some stream line effect at the finish, take it from me! Nothing
sporty or cake-walky, you understand: just quiet and dignified and
rich-like, same as any second vice or gen'ral manager would wear.
Two-button sack with wide English roll and no turn-up to the
trousers--oh, I should ripple!
The shave was an afterthought. I'd worked up to it by havin' some of
my lurid locks trimmed, and as Giuseppe quits shearin' and asks if
there'll be anything else I rubs my hand casual across my jaw and
remarks:
"Could you find anything there to mow with a razor?"
Could he? He'd go through the motions on a glass doorknob!
Then it's me tilted back with my heels up and the suds artist decoratin'
my map until it looks like a Polish weddin' cake. Don't it hit you foolish
the first time, though? I felt like everybody in the shop, includin' the
brush boy and the battery of lady manicures, was all gathered around
pipin' me off as a raw beginner. So I stares haughty at the ceilin' and
tries to