busts, was a square sheet of white paper. I viewed the large black letters on this paper with a quaking heart. “References Investigated!!” with two exclamation points. Now, if it had only been put quietly and mildly, or even
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IN THE INTELLIGENCE OFFICE.
with one exclamation point, but two—dreadful. It was a death-warrant to the idea I had of writing my own references if any were demanded.
A young woman who was standing with a downcast head by the window turned to look at the abrupt new-comer. A man who had apparently been conversing with her came hastily forward to the desk. He was a middle-sized man, with a sharp, gray eye, a bald head, and a black frock-coat buttoned up tightly, showing to disadvantage his rounded shoulders.
“Well?” he said to me, in a questioning manner, as he glanced quickly over my “get up.”
“Are you the man who gets places for girls?” I asked, as if there were but one such man.
