“Come in!” and W. W. Lovell opened the door of 888.
“I'm braver than that guy!” interjected a youth, extremely broad-shouldered and thick-necked.
Mr. Lovell looked at him coldly, steadily, inquisitively, as though he would read the man's soul. He stared fully a minute and a half before the thick-set youngster dropped his gaze, whereupon Mr. Lovell pushed in the man he had picked out, followed him, and slammed the door in the faces of the others. They tried the door-knob in vain. It was a spring lock.
Mr. Lovell sat down at his desk, motioned to the man to draw near, and said, sternly:
“No questions answered!”
“I'll ask none.”
Lovell gazed at him intently. He nodded to himself with satisfaction, and proceeded, in a painful whisper:
“Your name is W. W. Lowry.”
The man hesitated. Lovell frowned and, leaning forward, said:
“One hundred dollars a day!”