Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 71: what you’re looking at

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

THE GOAT-GETTER. gray haired or elderly. All three of these unpleasantly violent emotions seethed and bubbled within his breast as he glared at the stranger. ‘As I was saying Mr. Blevitt,’’ Simms Daly went on, unperturbed by J. K. Blev- itt’s glare, ‘I’m a go-getter. I am the man you are looking for to jazz up your sales force. And I’m ready to go to work right now.” “Damn you, sir, I don’t want a sales- -man—and if I was starving to death for a salesman, I wouldn’t take you!” It was on the tip of J. K. Blevitt’s tongue to say this to Simms Daly. But he did not say it. The fact was, J. K. Blevitt needed a salesman very badly that morning—a man to visit the down town trade. Blevitt swallowed his indignation and managed to growl fairly mildly: “Come inside. Ill talk to you.” “You know the down town box trade, of course?” said J. K. Blevitt, after a short chat in which Simms Daly did most of the talking. To terminate the interview Blev- itt already had agreed that Daly was to go to work and show what he could do. ‘ You know the down town trade in boxes, Daly?” . ‘“ No, I don’t. Never had the pleasure,” Daly quoth in a good, loud voice, display- ing all his fine teeth cheerfully. ‘“‘ Nope!” “ Well, then, how the devil—” ‘There, there!” Daly cried, fending off his new boss with a soothing gesture which brought his palm to rest affectionately on Blevitt’s trembling shoulder. “ There, there! Don’t you worry, Blevitt, I will know ’em! I’ll know ’em like my own brothers by this evening. Everything’s O. K., Blevitt. Ill get your orders!” “By the eternal, you'd better!” said J. K. Blevitt in a strangled voice. “ You'd better show me!” Inwardly, Blevitt thought with vast sat- isfaction that he would not be bothered with Simms Daly for many hours. Daly would come back empty-handed, or with a pitiful showing of orders, and out Daly would go, assisted, figuratively speaking, by the toe of the J. K. Blevitt boot. But Simms Daly came back that evening with such a sheaf of orders that even J. K. Blevitt relaxed his grimness. Blevitt spoke to his cashier. “ Put Daly on the pay roll for a week, until I can find a salesman who doesn’t incite me to murder!” IT, J. K. Burevirr talked with Rudolph Reed, his general manager and a silent partner in the J. K. Blevitt Company. Rudolph Reed was ten years younger than Blevitt, though he did not look it. He was a man of fine physique, military car- riage, and calm dignity. He dressed with meticulous care always, carrying to busi- ness his walking stick, his neatly creased gloves, wearing his dove-hued spats and Prince Albert coat. J. K. Blevitt was the boss—a man feared and loved—but Rudolph Reed was the king of the office, a fair and just king whose person was held sacred. Reed had just returned from an out-of- town journey. “1 had to take on a new down town salesman while you were gone, Rudolph,” said Blevitt. “Ha! I thought I saw a strange hat on the rack as I came in.” “Stranger” Blevitt cried. “ Strange? You’d have seen a stranger coat under the hat, if you’d looked twice. And wait till you see what goes with the outfit! Ru- dolph, I guess I picked a lemon—” ‘“A dud, is he?” Blevitt frowned. ‘“ He can sell like a blue streak!” Reed raised his eyebrows in question. “ Yes,” said Blevitt, “he can sell. I can’t very well kick out a man who sells twice as much as Murphy used to in the same territory, can I, Rudolph?” Why should you, J. K.?” “ Wait till you meet-him! Just wait till you know him, Rudolph! If you can stand this pest, I won’t ever say another word! Come along, I want you to know Simms Daly!” J. K. Blevitt dragged his partner and manager to the outer office and up to the desk where Simms Daly was most com- fortably established. Simms Daly was com going over his order book. huraming a