After leaving the office of Richards & Tuttle Mr. James B. Robison
went to the Subway station at Wall Street, rode up-town as far as
Forty-second Street, walked to Sixth Avenue, took a surface car, jumped
off at Forty-eighth, walked to Forty-ninth, waited there for the next
car, and, being certain he was not shadowed, rode on to Fifty-sixth
Street. He got off, walked north on the avenue and, half-way up the
block, paused at the entrance of the employment agency of “_Jno.
Sniffens, Established 1858_.” On the big slate by the door he read that
there was wanted a coachman--careful driver; elderly man preferred.
He walked up-stairs one flight and accosted the agent.
“Good morning, Sniffens.”
“Good morning, Mr. Maynard,” answered Sniffens, son of the original
Jno., very obsequiously.
“Are they here?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How many?”
“Seven.”
“I've seen fifty-six so far--haven't I?”
“No, sir,” contradicted Sniffens with the air of a man who will tell the
truth even if death should resuit. “Fifty-five. You forget you saw the
Swede twice.”
“That is true, Sniffens. You are an honest man! Here!” And he gave ten
dollars to the agent. “Send in the men.”
He sat down in the inner office and Sniffens went out, presently to
return with an elderly man. “This is Wilkinson--worked twenty-nine
years--”
“Sorry. Won't do. Here, my man! Take this two-dollar bill for your
trouble. Next!”
Much the same thing happened with the next four applicants. The fifth
man, however, made Robison listen patiently while Sniffens finished his
elaborately biographical introduction. The man's name was Thomas Gray;
age fifty-eight; worked twelve years for General James Morris and
fourteen for Stuyvesant R. Morris. Very careful. Excellent references.
Morris family went abroad to live. Gray had not done anything for five
years, but was willing and anxious to work.
Robison, who had been studying Gray keenly, said sharply, and not at all
nasally:
“Height and weight?”
“Five foot eleven and a half inches; one hundred and seventy pounds,
sir.”
“Deaf?”
“No, sir.”
“No?”
“No, sir; but I don't hear as well as I did.”
“Can you hear this?” And Robison whispered, “Constantinople!”
“Beg pardon, sir!” Gray looked at Mr. Robison's face intently, but
Robison shook his head and said:
“No fair looking! That isn't hearing, but lipreading. Close your eyes
and listen!” And he whispered, “Bab-el-Mandeb!” No one could have heard
him three feet away and Gray was across the room. Robison raised his
voice and said, “Did you hear that?”
There showed in Gray's blue eyes a pathetic struggle between telling the
truth and getting the job. “I--I only heard a faint murmur, sir.”
“Try again. Listen!” Mr. Robison moved his lips soundlessly and asked,
“What did I say, Gray?” The old man drew in a deep breath. It was not so
much the money, for the Morris family gave him a pension; but he wished
to feel that he was not yet useless, that he was still worth his keep.
However, he shook his head and said, determinedly:
“I heard nothing.”
“Open your eyes! You get the job, Gray,” said Mr. Robison. “Come here!”
As Gray approached his new employer Sniffens left the room.
“You are not to tell any one for whom you are working, or where, or why,
or for how long, or for what wages. There will be no night work. Are you
very careful?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You'll have to take some children to school every day--poor children to
a public school in the morning. You are not to ask their names. Do what
you are told, no matter how queer it seems to you, so long as you are
not asked to break the law of the land or the rules of the road.”
“Very good, sir.”
“I shall send people to ask you questions, and I warn you that I'm going
to put you to various tests. I want a man who is honest enough to trust
with valuables, wise enough to mind his own business, and faithful
enough to do what his employer tells him.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Until you prove you are the man I want you will be paid by the
day--five dollars. You will feed yourself and sleep home. I supply
the livery and a second man. If after one month's trial you are found
satisfactory you will get your wages by the month. It's big wages, but I
want an honest man!” He looked at Gray sternly.
“Yes, sir. I'm careful and honest, sir. I think you will find that to be
true, sir.”
“I trust so. The stable is on Thirty-first Street, near Avenue B. Here
is the number.” He gave a card to Gray. “Be there at eight sharp. You
will drive a coupé; quiet horse; New York City.”
“Yes, sir. I'll be there, sir.”
“Here's five dollars for you. You don't have to pay any fee to Sniffens.
I've paid him.”
“Thank you, sir. Good day, sir.”
At seven-thirty the next morning Gray was at the stable. It was not
a very good-looking place. He rang the bell, feeling vaguely
uncomfortable. No one answered. He rang a second and a third time, and
still there was no answer. He listened, his ear close to the door. He
heard the muffled sound of a horse pounding in a well-littered stall.
At eight o'clock--Gray heard a clock within chime the hour--the door
opened. Gray entered. A man was hitching up a dark bay horse to a coupé.
Mr. Robison was sitting in a sumptuous green-plush armchair in the
carriage-room. Behind him, on a mahogany table, was a small valise,
opened.
“Good morning, Gray,” said Robison.
“Good morning, Mr. Maynard,” said Gray, respectfully.
Robison took a clean white-linen handkerchief from his pocket and said:
“See that brick over there?” He pointed to a common red brick on a
little shelf near the street door.
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, wrap it up in this handkerchief--here on this table. No--don't
dust it. Just as it is!” He watched Gray's face keenly. The old man's
countenance remained English and impassive.
“Put it in the valise.”
“Yes, sir.”
“In yonder box you'll find some tenpenny nails. Fetch three and wrap
them up in the sheet of paper you'll find in the valise. Then lay them
on top of the brick.”
Gray did as he was bid. If he thought his employer was crazy he did not
look it.
Robison then took from his pocket a sealed envelope, threw it into the
valise, and closed the valise.
“You will find your livery in the dressing-room--door to your left. Put
it on. Then drive so as to be before 197 West Thirty-eighth Street at
exactly nine minutes after nine. Compare your watch with that clock.
Wait there--Thirty-eighth Street--until a footman in dark-green livery
comes out alone. If he asks you, 'James, did Ben win?' you will say
to him, 'The answer is inside. Take it!' You will then return to this
stable, fasten the horse to that chain, put on your street clothes, go
home, and return to-morrow at eight sharp. But--” He paused.
“Yes, sir.”
“Pay attention, Gray! If, instead of the servant alone, the servant
comes out of, 197 West Thirty-eighth Street accompanied by a gentleman
who gets in, you will drive him to my office.”
“Where, sir?”
“This is my office--here. You will drive back here quickly and disregard
everything your passenger may say or whatever orders he may give you.
You understand? These are your orders that I now give you. They are not
to be changed under any circumstances, no matter what happens. Have you
understood?”
“Yes, sir. I'll follow orders, Mr. Maynard.”
“See that you do.” And Mr. Robison walked out of the stable.
At nine-nine sharp Gray stood in front of 197 West Thirty-eighth Street.
At nine-fifteen a footman in dark-green livery came out of the house.
He was followed by Mr. Robison himself. The man opened the door of the
carriage and Gray's employer got in.
“Will you go to the office, sir?” asked the footman. Gray heard him.
“No! Metropolitan Museum!” answered their master, distinctly.
“Metropolitan Museum!” said the footman to the coachman.
Gray was torn by doubt, anger, and fear. Should he drive to the
Metropolitan or back to the stable?
He decided to go back to the stable. If he were discharged he would not
regret losing so unsatisfactory a job. If, on the other hand, driving
back should prove to be the right thing he would greatly strengthen his
position.
He arrived at the stable, fastened the horse to the chain, and went to
change his clothes. He heard Mr. Robison tap on the glass of the door
and saw him beckon to him and then heard him shout, “Open the door!” But
Gray went to the dressing-room and changed his clothes. As soon as he
was done the second man came in, showed him two envelopes, and said:
“You win! You get the ten dollars! I get the five-spot. That's how
he pays. You obeyed orders. You are the first man that's succeeded in
holding the job over one day. The Lord only knows what test Mr. Maynard
will prepare for you to-morrow! It may be the children's lunch stunt or
the runaway lunatic. Run out! Mr. Maynard won't like you to be here when
he comes in. You can go out into the street by that door without going
through the carriage-room.”
Gray put the ten dollars in his pocket and walked out. “Rum go, that!”
he muttered. It was indeed. He nodded his head with a sad sort of
triumph to show that though he had not solved the mystery he had at all
events grasped the situation and was, moreover, ten dollars to the good.