IN THE INTELLIGENCE OFFICE.
A young woman who was standing with a downcast head by the window turned to look at the abrupt newcomer. A man who had apparently been conversing with her came hastily forward to the desk. He was a middle-sized man, with a sharp, gray eye, a bald head, and a black frock-coat buttoned up tightly, showing to disadvantage his rounded shoulders.
“Well?” he said to me, in a questioning manner, as he glanced quickly over my “get up.”
“Are you the man who gets places for girls?” I asked, as if there were but one such man.
“Yes, I’m the man. Do you want a place?” he asked, with a decidedly German twang.
“Yes, I want a place,” I replied.
“What did you work at last?”
“Oh, I was a chambermaid. Can you get me a position, do you think?”
“Yes, I can do that,” he replied. “You’re a nice-looking girl and I can soon get you a place. Just the other day I got a girl a place for $20 a month, just because she was nice-looking. Many gentlemen, and ladies also, will pay more when girls are nice-looking. Where did you work last?”