Guy Hammersley; or, Clearing his Name — page 22: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

GUY HAMMERSLEY. 12 Guy cleared his throat once or twice, but nobody appeared. It was noontime, and the girls who wrote wrappers and did up books for mailing were evident- ly in some back room eating their lunch. To his left was a small gate, giving access behind the coun- ter, and which now stood half open. Just behind it were two private offices, on the door of one of which appeared the words— ADVERTISING MANAGER, Inside Guy could see a roll top desk, the lid down, and gathering from this that the man to whom he had been sent was not in the building, he decided that rather than lose any more time he had better step inside, leave the package on the desk, and return to the restaurant. Acting on this idea, within three minutes he had executed his commission and was on his way back to Fox & Burdell’s. ‘‘Funny way of letting an office take care of itself,” he soliloquized, as he walked along. ‘‘ Lucky my business didn’t require an answer.” He was just passing the foot of the stairway lead- ing to the Park Place station of the Elevated Road, when he heard his name called by some one half way down. ‘‘Mr. Hammersley! Mr. Guy!” It was a woman’s voice, and looking up he saw Eliza, the waitress at their boarding house home, hur rying down to head him off. Her manner was ex- cited, and Guy’s heart almost stopped its throbbing GEomichboo Ss (E(0) m