Benjamin F. Green, Principal
Commercial Building, Chicago
Forrester decided to call on Mr. Green.
He found "Green's National Detective Agency" to consist of two small rooms. In the outer room he was met by a woman of uncertain age and colorless personality who immediately ushered him into Mr. Green's office. Green was a large, strongly built man with thin black hair, carefully brushed over a bald spot, and a bristling black mustache. The detective was in his shirt sleeves, a half-burned, unlit cigar gripped in the corner of his mouth, and a well-polished badge gleaming on the left breast of his unbuttoned waistcoat.
"How-do," he said, rising to greet Forrester, and added, "Have a chair," pushing one in the direction of Forrester with his foot.
The two men sat down and after Green had shifted his cigar to the other side of his mouth, he inquired, "What can I do for you?"
"Ever hear of the 'Friends of the Poor'?" inquired Forrester, going straight to the point.
Green sat up in his chair with a jerk.
"You been gettin' one o' them notices?" he asked.
Forrester took out the warning message and laid it on Green's desk. The detective's eyes sparkled as he leaned over and closely examined it.