"Thank you, Mr. Rutgers," said Max, respectfully, and withdrew from the
presence on tiptoe.
Hendrik then beckoned to his sandwich lieutenant. "Fleming!" he said,
sternly.
Fleming threw up an arm defensively from force of habit--the slave's
immemorial salute. Then he grinned sheepishly. Then he said, eagerly,
"Yes, boss!"
"I'm going to make you chief of the Meal Ticket Department, and I expect
you to maintain discipline. But if I ever hear of any graft, such as
accepting bonuses--" He closed his jaws and his fists. When you close
both at the same time you inevitably win the debate. It is, however,
difficult.
"Honest, b-boss," stammered Fleming, his eyes on Hendrik's right fist.
"Honest, I--"
The boss's right unclenched itself. Fleming drew in a deep breath.
"Get the names and addresses of all the men here--in their own writing.
Ask Onthemaker for a blank-book, and when the men have signed give the
book back to him. They've got to sign!"
Fleming's face was pale but resigned. Signatures are lethal weapons in
all industrial democracies. Ask the note-teller in any bank. But the
boss had said, "_Sign!_"
Kismet!
"And you keep a book of your own so that when I want ten or twenty men
of a certain type and appearance you will know where to find them. I
hold you responsible!"
Poor Fleming almost collapsed. Responsibility in a republic really means
accountability. Our entire system of law, as a great psychologist has
pointed out, is based upon the same confusion of definitions.
Hendrik saw the fear of statutory punishment seep into his lieutenant's
soul. He stopped it at exactly the right point.
"Fleming," he said, kindly, "I trust you!"
Fleming felt himself decorated with the Grand Cross of the Order of
Unearned Food. It made him into an active citizen.
"I'll get the men when you shout, boss!" he promised, proudly, realizing
the meaning of the duty of a voter.
However, it would never do to have your creatures think they also have
the power to create. Therefore Hendrik said, "If you don't--"
"I'll get 'em for you, b-boss. Honest, I will!" meekly promised Fleming,
taking his place in the ranks. He was an ideal cabinet officer.
Hendrik Rutgers did not _know_ men. He _guessed_ them. He thus saved
himself the fatigue of thinking.
Weinpusslacher swaggered by, counting his millions. He had begun to feel
haughty. Hendrik stopped him by lifting his right forefinger and then
smartly moving it Hendrikward.
"Weinie, I guess you're famous. You give the free meal tickets to
Onthemaker. And don't try to cheat!"
"I never do such--" began Caspar, angrily.
"You never will to me," interrupted Hendrik, making Weinie's unuttered
words his own. It took away from Weinie all sense of proprietorship in
his own property.
This also is called genius. Such men should be tax-collectors instead of
railroad bankers.
Hendrik glanced toward the reporters and saw that Mr. Onthemaker was
talking to them and looking at him--looking at him both ingratiatingly
and proudly. He therefore knew that Max was being quoted by the
newspaper men, and the only subject on which they would quote him was
Hendrik Rutgers. He also knew that the desire for reflected glory, in
all newspaper-reading countries, is so strong that Max would be a great
political historian. The best way to blow your own horn is to lend it to
an obscure friend.
Hendrik Rutgers left the Colossal Restaurant certain that he was News,
and that his job consisted of continuing to be News.
To become News and then to continue to be News a man must be plausible,
persistent, and picturesque.
There was no altitude of success to which he might not climb, provided
he lost six-sevenths of his name and mutilated his surname in like
degree.