The Efficiency Expert. Edgar Rice Burroughs

      “What do you know about that?” he mused. “And I thought I was a wise guy.”

      A few minutes after Jimmy reached his room the office called him on the telephone to tell him that a man had called to see him.

      “Send him up,” said Jimmy, wondering who it might be, since he was sure that no one knew of his presence in the city. He tried to connect the call in some way with his advertisement, but inasmuch as that had been inserted blind he felt that there could be no possible connection between that and his caller.

      A few minutes later there was a knock on his door, and in response to his summons to enter the door opened, and there stood before him the young man of his recent encounter upon the street. The latter entered softly, closing the door behind him. His feet made no sound upon the carpet, and no sound came from the door as he closed it, nor any slightest click from the latch. His utter silence and the stealth of his movements were so pronounced as to attract immediate attention. He did not speak until he had reached the center of the room and halted on the opposite side of the table at which Jimmy was standing; and then a very slow smile moved his lips, though the expression of his eyes remained unchanged.

      “Miss anything?” he asked.

      “Yes,” said Jimmy.

      “Here it is,” said the visitor, laying the other’s watch upon the table.

      “Why this spasm of virtue?” asked Jimmy.

      “Oh, I don’t know,” replied the other. “I guess it’s because you’re a white guy. O’Donnell has been trying to get something on me for the last year. He’s got it in for me—I wouldn’t cough every time the big stiff seen me.”

      “Sit down,” said Jimmy.

      “Naw,” said the other; “I gotta be goin’.”

      “Come,” insisted the host; “sit down for a few minutes at least. I was just wishing that I had someone to talk to.”

      The other sank noiselessly into a chair. “All right, bo,” he said.

      Jimmy proffered him his cigar-case.

      “No, thanks,” declined the visitor. “I’d rather have a coffin-nail,” which Jimmy forthwith furnished.

      “I should think,” said Jimmy, “that your particular line of endeavor would prove rather hazardous in a place where you are known by the police.”

      The other smiled and, as before, with his lips alone.

      “Naw,” he said; “this is the safest place to work. If ten per cent of the bulls know me I got that much on them, and then some, because any boob can spot any one o’ de harness bunch, and I know nearly every fly on the department. They’re the guys yuh gotta know, and usually I know something besides their names, too,” and again his lips smiled.

      “How much of your time do you have to put in at your occupation to make a living?” asked Jimmy.

      “Sometimes I put in six or eight hours a day,” replied the visitor. “De rush hours on de surface line are usually good for two or t’ree hours a day, but I been layin’ off dat stuff lately and goin’ in fer de t’ater crowd. Dere’s more money and shorter hours.”

      “You confine yourself,” asked Jimmy, “to—er—ah—pocket-picking solely?”

      Again the lip smile. “I’ll tell youse sumpin’, bo, dat dey don’t none o’ dem big stiffs on de department know. De dip game is a stall. I learned it when I was a kid, an’ dese yaps t’ink dat’s all I know, and I keep dem t’inkin’ it by pullin’ stuff under der noses often enough to give ’em de hunch dat I’m still at de same ol’ business.” He leaned confidentially across the table. “If you ever want a box cracked, look up the Lizard.”

      “Meaning?” asked Jimmy.

      “Me, bo, I’m the Lizard.”

      “Box cracked?” repeated Jimmy. “An ice-box or a hot box?”

      His visitor grinned. “Safe,” he explained.

      “Oh,” said Jimmy, “if I ever want any one to break into a safe, come to you, huh?”

      “You get me,” replied the other.

      “All right,” said Jimmy, laughing, “I’ll call on you. That the only name you got, Mr. Lizard?”

      “That’s all—just the Lizard. Now I gotta be beatin’ it.”

      “Goin’ to crack a box?” asked Jimmy.

      The other smiled his lip smile and turned toward the door.

      “Wait a second,” said Jimmy. “What would you have gotten on this watch of mine?”

      “It would have stood me about twenty bucks.”

      Jimmy reached into his pocket and drew forth a roll of bills. “Here,” he said, handing the other two tens.

      “Naw,” said the Lizard, shoving the proffered money away. “I’m no cheap skate.”

      “Come on—take it,” said Jimmy. “I may want a box cracked some day.”

      “All right,” said the Lizard, “if you put it that way, bo.”

      “I should think,” said Jimmy, “that a man of your ability could earn a living by less precarious methods.”

      “You would think so,” replied the Lizard. “I’ve tried two or three times to go straight. Wore out my shoes looking for a job. Never landed anything that paid me more than ten bucks per, and worked nine or ten hours a day, and half the time I couldn’t get that.”

      “I suppose the police hounded you all the time, too,” suggested Jimmy.

      “Naw,” said the Lizard; “dat’s all bunk. De fellows that couldn’t even float down a sewer straight pull dat. Once in a while dey get it in for some guy, but dey’re glad enough to leave us alone if we leave dem alone. I worked four hours to-day, maybe six before I get through, and I’ll stand a chance of makin’ all the way from fifty dollars to five thousand. Suppose I was drivin’ a milk-wagon, gettin’ up at t’ree o’clock in the mornin’ and workin’ like hell—how much would I get out of dat? Expectin’ every minute some one was goin’ tuh fire me. Nuthin’ doin’—dey can’t nobody fire me now. I’m my own boss.”

      “Well,” said Jimmy, “your logic sounds all right, but it all depends upon the viewpoint. But I’ll tell you: you’ve offered me your services; I’ll offer you mine. Whenever you want a job, look me up. I’m going to be general manager of a big concern here, and you’ll find me in the next issue of the telephone directory.” He handed the Lizard his card.

      “Tanks,” said the latter. “If you don’t want a box cracked any sooner than I want a job, the chances are we will never meet again. So-long,” and he was gone as noiselessly as he had come.

      Jimmy breakfasted at nine the next morning, and as he waited for his bacon and eggs he searched the Situations Wanted columns of the morning paper until his eye finally alighted upon that for which he sought—the ad that was to infuse into the business life of the great city a new and potent force. Before his breakfast was served Jimmy had read the few lines over a dozen times, and with each succeeding reading he was more and more pleased with the result of his advertising ability as it appeared in print.

      WANTED—By College Graduate—Position as General Manager of Large Business where ability, energy and experience will be appreciated. Address 263-S, Tribune Office.

      He had decided to wait until after lunch before calling at the newspaper office for replies to his advertisement, but during breakfast it occurred to him there probably would be several alert prospective employers who would despatch their replies by special messengers, and realizing that promptness was