rtunity which I sought, and, having it,
would mount to the dizziest heights. She likened me to a crusader who
wore her colors and was charging single-handed against the gates of the
Holy City and shouting his defiance of the infidels who held it. It
was an exalted idea, but I remembered my tilt that afternoon with the
ancient office-boy of _The Record_, and his refusal to take my seventh
card to Mr. Hanks. The comparison was so absurd that I laughed as I
had not laughed in many days, and with the sudden up-welling of my
mirth, lonely mirth though it was, the blood which had grown sluggish
quickened, the drooping courage rose, I saw the world through clearer
eyes. The next afternoon when I faced the ancient office-boy the
remembrance of Gladys Todd's metaphor made me smile, and so overcome
was he by this unusual geniality that he did take in my card to Mr.
Hanks.

"Again," said Mr. Hanks, leaning back in his chair and surveying me
through his magnifying-glasses. "Young man, are you never going to
give me a rest?"

"Never," said I, smiling. "You advised me to go the rounds and not to
be discouraged."

"Have you got your letters with you?" he asked mildly.

"They are locked away in my trunk," said I.

"You certainly have taken my advice with a vengeance," said he. "I
suppose I shall have to do something to protect myself."

He leaned over his desk and became absorbed in his everlasting game of
checkers. The smile left my face, for I thought that he had forgotten
my presence, as he had forgotten it so many times before. But after a
moment he slanted his head, focussed one microscope on me, and said:
"Do you think you could cover Abraham Weinberg's funeral this
afternoon?"

So it was that Gladys Todd's crusader at last broke down the gates of
the Holy City. But I fear that it was to become one of the defending
infidels. Doctor Todd, in his letter to whom it might concern,
announced that David Malcolm was about to launch himself into
journalism. And now, after long waiting, David Malcolm was launched.
Just when he was despairing of ever leaving the ways he had shot down
them suddenly into the Temple Emanu-El and the funeral of Abraham
Weinberg.

CHAPTER XIII

You can well understand the elation with which I announced my success
to Gladys Todd. It was magnified by the month of disappointment, and
to her I felt that I owed a debt. Though I had come to look with irony
on her high-flown expression