“Then take a good look at my young friend here, Mr. King. His name is Willie Brown. Willie, this is Mr. King. I knew you wanted a good office boy, and I brought him around. He’s all ready to go to work.”
Mr. King looked puzzled. “What’s the joke, Frank?” he asked, after he had spoken to Willie.
“There’s no joke at all,” said Sheridan. “This lad wants a job the worst way. But he’s awful particular. There’s only one job he’ll take. He wants to be an office boy for the Special Agent of the Treasury, and he came all the way from central Pennsylvania to get the job.”
The Special Agent of the Treasury looked more puzzled than ever. “I am no mind reader, Frank,” he said. “Explain.”
The Secret Service man laughed. “It’s this way, Mr. King. This boy is dead set upon becoming a Secret Service man, and——”
“Been reading dime novels, like the rest of them, I’ll bet,” said Mr. King. “I don’t want him.”
“Of course you don’t,” went on the Secret Service man, “but you will when you find out a little more about him. In the first place, he doesn’t read dime novels. In the second, he belonged to that bunch of wireless boys that helped to catch the German spy, Sanders, and his crew during the war. Third, he has set his heart upon becoming a Secret Service man. You know as well as I do that we couldn’t take him into the Service. But the Chief is interested in the lad, and he knows that you are in need of a good office boy. So he sent me down here to see what you could do for the lad.”
“Passed the buck to me, did he?” said Mr. King, but he smiled when he said it.
“B-rrrrrrrrrrr,” went the desk telephone.
The Special Agent leaned forward and swung the instrument around toward himself. “Hello,” he called.