Only seven people
answered that advertisement, and they were mostly tyros."
"Then you didn't get your man?"
"It was a woman. The fifth applicant. Got a pin about you?"
Bertram took a pearl from his scarf.
"That's good. It will make nice, bold, inevitable sort of letters.
Come over here to this desk."
For a few moments he worked at a sheet of, paper with the pin, then
threw it down in disgust.
"This sort of thing requires practice," he muttered. "Here, Bert,
you're cleverer with your fingers than I. You take it, and I'll
dictate."
Between them, after several failures, they produced a fair copy of
the following:
"Mr. Alden Honeywell will choose between making explanation to the
post-office authorities or calling at 3:30 P. m. to-morrow on A.
Jones, Ad-Visor, Astor Court Temple."
This Average Jones enclosed in an envelope which he addressed in
writing to Alden Honeywell, Esq., 550 West Seventy-fourth Street,
City, afterward pin-pricking the letters in outline. "Just for
moral effect," he explained.
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