For two months Cappy Ricks saw nothing of Bill Peck. That enterprising
veteran had been sent out into the Utah, Arizona, New Mexico and Texas
territory the moment he had familiarized himself with the numerous
details regarding freight rates, weights and the mills he represented,
all things which a salesman should be familiar with before he starts out
on the road. From Salt Lake City he wired an order for two carloads of
larch rustic and in Ogden he managed to inveigle a retail yard with
which Mr. Skinner had been trying to do business for years, into
sampling a carload of skunk spruce boards, random lengths and grades, at
a dollar above the price given him by Skinner. In Arizona he worked up
some new business in mining timbers, but it was not until he got into
the heart of Texas that Comrade Peck really commenced to demonstrate his
selling ability. Standard oil derricks were his specialty and he shot
the orders in so fast that Mr. Skinner was forced to wire him for mercy
and instruct him to devote his talent to the disposal of cedar shingles
and siding, Douglas fir and redwood. Eventually he completed his circle
and worked his way home, via Los Angeles, pausing however, in the San
Joaquin Valley to sell two more carloads of skunk spruce. When this
order was wired in, Mr. Skinner came to Cappy Ricks with the telegram.
"Well, I must admit Comrade Peck can sell lumber," he announced
grudgingly. "He has secured five new accounts and here is an order for
two more carloads of skunk spruce. I'll have to raise his salary about
the first of the year.
"My dear Skinner, why the devil wait until the first of the year? Your
pernicious habit of deferring the inevitable parting with money has cost
us the services of more than one good man. You know you have to raise
Comrade Peck's salary sooner or later, so why not do it now and smile
like a dentifrice advertisement while you're doing it? Comrade Peck will
feel a whole lot better as a result, and who knows? He may conclude
you're a human being, after all, and learn to love you?"
"Very well, sir. I'll give him the same salary Andrews was getting
before Peck took over his territory."
"Skinner, you make it impossible for me to refrain from showing you
who's boss around here. He's better than Andrews, isn't he?"
"I think he is, sir."
"Well then, for the love of a square deal, pay him more and pay it to
him from the first day he went to work. Get out. You make me nervous. By
the way, how is Andrews getting along in his Shanghai job?"
"He's helping the cable company pay its income tax. Cables about three
times a week on matters he should decide for himself. Matt Peasley is
disgusted with him."
"Ah! Well, I'm not disappointed. And I suppose Matt will be in here
before long to remind me that I was the bright boy who picked Andrews
for the job. Well, I did, but I call upon you to remember. Skinner, when
I'm assailed, that Andrews' appointment was temporary."
"Yes, sir, it was."
"Well, I suppose I'll have to cast about for his successor and beat Matt
out of his cheap 'I told you so' triumph. I think Comrade Peck has some
of the earmarks of a good manager for our Shanghai office, but I'll have
to test him a little further." He looked up humorously at Mr. Skinner.
"Skinner, my dear boy," he continued, "I'm going to have him deliver a
blue vase."
Mr. Skinner's cold features actually glowed. "Well, tip the chief of
police and the proprietor of the store off this time and save yourself
some money," he warned Cappy. He walked to the window and looked down
into California Street. He continued to smile.
"Yes," Cappy continued dreamily, "I think I shall give him the
thirty-third degree. You'll agree with me, Skinner, that if he delivers
the blue vase he'll be worth ten thousand dollars a year as our Oriental
manager?"
"I'll say he will," Mr. Skinner replied slangily.
"Very well, then. Arrange matters, Skinner, so that he will be available
for me at one o'clock, a week from Sunday. I'll attend to the other
details."
Mr. Skinner nodded. He was still chuckling when he departed for his own
office.
* * * * *
V
A week from the succeeding Saturday, Mr. Skinner did not come down to
the office, but a telephone message from his home informed the chief
clerk that Mr. Skinner was at home and somewhat indisposed. The chief
clerk was to advise Mr. Peck that he, Mr. Skinner, had contemplated
having a conference with the latter that day, but that his indisposition
would prevent this. Mr. Skinner hoped to be feeling much better
tomorrow, and since he was very desirous of a conference with Mr. Peck
before the latter should depart on his next selling pilgrimage, on
Monday, would Mr. Peck be good enough to call at Mr. Skinner's house at
one o'clock Sunday afternoon? Mr. Peck sent back word that he would be
there at the appointed time and was rewarded with Mr. Skinner's thanks,
via the chief clerk.
Promptly at one o'clock the following day, Bill Peck reported at the
general manager's house. He found Mr. Skinner in bed, reading the paper
and looking surprisingly well. He trusted Mr. Skinner felt better than
he looked. Mr. Skinner did, and at once entered into a discussion of the
new customers, other prospects he particularly desired Mr. Peck to
approach, new business to be investigated, and further details without
end. And in the midst of this conference Cappy Riggs telephoned.
A portable telephone stood on a commode beside Mr. Skinner's bed, so the
latter answered immediately. Comrade Peck watched Skinner listen
attentively for fully two minutes, then heard him say:
"Mr. Ricks, I'm terribly sorry. I'd love to do this errand for you, but
really I'm under the weather. In fact, I'm in bed as I speak to you now.
But Mr. Peck is here with me and I'm sure he'll be very happy to attend
to the matter for you."
"By all means," Bill Peck hastened to assure the general manager. "Who
does Mr. Ricks want killed and where will he have the body delivered?"
"Hah-hah! Hah-Hah!" Mr. Skinner had a singularly annoying, mirthless
laugh, as if he begrudged himself such an unheard-of indulgence. "Mr.
Peck says," he informed Cappy, "that he'll be delighted to attend to the
matter for you. He wants to know whom you want killed and where you wish
the body delivered. Hah-hah! Hah! Peck, Mr. Ricks will speak to you."