ON the day before Christmas a man of middle age, middle height, and
middle weight, smooth-shaven, dressed in black and wearing black gloves,
walked into the business office of the New York _Herald_. He approached
the first “Advertisements” window, looked at the clerk a moment, opened
his mouth, and said several words-at least, so the clerk judged from the
motion of the man's lips.
“I didn't hear that, Cap,” said the clerk, Ralph Carroll.
The stranger thereupon made another effort.
“You'll have to come again,” Carroll told him, kindly, at the same time
leaning over the counter and presenting his left ear to the voiceless
talker. He heard:
“How much to print this ad under Male Help Wanted, in big type, so it
will make about two inches?”
I
He handed a slip to the clerk, which the clerk read, counting the words
from sheer force of habit:
Wanted-A Man With St. Vitus's Dance and an Introspective Turn of Mind.
High Wages to Right Party. Apply Saturday Morning, Room 888, St. Iago
Building.
“Four-sixty-four,” said the clerk.
The man raised his eyebrows inquiringly.
“Four dollars and sixty-four cents,” repeated Carroll.
The man took out a wallet and tried to pull out a bank-note, but could
not because of his gloved hands. He took off the right glove, fished
out one five-dollar bill and gave it to the clerk, who handed him
back thirty-six cents. As the man took the change the clerk distinctly
noticed that he had a big ivory-colored scar which ran from the knuckles
to the wrist and disappeared under the cuff. He remembered it by reason
of the freak ad and the man's voice.
The advertisement appeared in the _Herald_ on the next day. Being
Christmas, the one day of nonreading in America, few people saw it.
Nevertheless, at nine on Saturday morning, ten men with spasmodically
twitching necks or limbs waited for the advertiser to open the door of
Room 888, on which they saw in gilt letters: