The cold-eyed Custodians up at the main Fortress of Credit began to take notice of the Rustler.
He was a Glutton for Punishment, a Discounter from away back, and a
Demon for applying the Acid Test to every Account.
He was a Sure-Thinger, air-tight and playing naught but Cinches. No wonder they all took a slant at him and spotted him as a Comer.
The Business Associates of Alexander liked to see Europe from the inside every summer and investigate the Cocktail Crop of Florida every winter, so they allowed him to be the Works.
He began building the Skids which finally carried them to the Fresh Air and left only one name on the Gold Sign.
Up to his Chin in Debt and with a Panic looming on the Horizon, it behooved Alexander to be on the job at 7:30 A. M. and hang around to scan the Pay-Roll until 9:30 P. M.
Ofttimes while galloping from his Apartment to the Galleys or chasing homeward to grab off a few wasteful hours of Slumber, he would see People of the Lower Classes going out to the Parks with Picnic Baskets, or lined up at the Vaudeville Palaces, or watching a hard-faced Soubrette demonstrate something in a Show Window.
It got him to think Dubs could frivol around and waste the golden
Moments when they might be hopping on to a Ten-Cent Piece.
His usual Gait was that of a man going for the Doctor, and he talked
Numbers to himself as he sped along and mumbled over the important
Letters he was about to dictate.
Those who were pushed out of his way would overhear a scrap or two of the Raving and think he was Balmy.