"Why," he says. "Why—they're in our stock room at 245 Broadway."
"Can we get in there to-night?" asks Alex, reachin' for his hat.
"I have a key," says Wilkinson, "but I'm afraid I don't quite get the idea. I—"
"Look here!" says Alex, very brisk. "I'm goin' to deliver you and one thousand of them overcoats outside the War Department in Washington at five o'clock to-morrow afternoon! What will you get if you land this order?"
The lovely Wilkinson leaps out of his chair.
"Why—I—," he splutters, "I—get fifteen per cent if—but you can't get the coats there, it's impossible! Why—"
"Never let me hear you use that word impossible' again!" snorts Alex. "Speak United States! I spent a half hour to-night tellin' you that a man can do anything if he wants to. Now look here, they ain't no time to lose. I'll land you and your coats in Washington to-morrow on time. That will cost your firm around a thousand dollars—the same bein' the price of the means of locomotion. I will take your word of honor that you will pay me twenty per cent of any profits you make on any order you take as a result of my efforts. Is it a bargain? Speak quick!"
"If you are thinking of getting a special train," says Wilkinson, "it can't be—"
"Yes or no!" hollers Alex. "I'll take care of the rest!"
"Yes!" yells the lovely Wilkinson, jumpin' around like some of Alex's pep has entered his system. "If you put this over for me, I'll give you half of anything I get!"