“Well, then, I’d like to help you to get a good position. And would that wipe out your disappointment that I can’t make use of your clues?”
“Yes, sir! I’d like to have a recommendation from you, sir.”
“All right. Go away now and return this afternoon at three. I may have found a place for you by that time.”
Fibsy went away, thinking deeply. “Ain’t I the limit?” he inquired of himself. “Why in the dickens did I tell him those lies? It’s funny, but sometimes I ’spect to tell a straight yarn and sumpin inside o’ me jest ups an’ lies! But it didn’t make any difference this time fer he wouldn’t a’ cared if I’d told him it was a shoe button, or if I’d told him the truth about the hunk o’ dirt. An’ anyway, a detective has to be awful sicretive, an’ it don’t do to alwus tell the truth.”
At three the untruthful one returned for his news.
“Well, Terence,” was the greeting, “I’ve a good position for you in Philadelphia.”
Fibsy’s face fell. “I’d ruther be in New York.”
“Is that so. Well, you’re not obliged to take this place, but I should advise you to do so. It’s office boy to a first-class lawyer, and you should be able to pick up a lot of odds and ends of information that might be useful to you in your detective career.”
“Sounds good to me,” and Fibsy’s face cleared. “What’s the weekly number o’ bones?”
“You will receive ten dollars a week, if you make good.”