decorations on the walls were pasted clippings of prize
fighters and burlesque queens, cut from the pages of _The Police
Gazette_ and the sporting pages of some newspapers.

Into this room, all through the afternoon, streamed a curious medley of
people. Tall men, small men, rough men, dapper men, and loudly dressed
women, who for the most part seemed inclined to corpulence. They
talked sometimes; many seemed well acquainted. Others appeared to be
strangers, and they glanced about them uneasily, apparently suspicious
of their fellows.

This seemed a curious waiting room for a Fifth Avenue "Mercantile
Agency."

But inside the room to the left, marked "private," was the explanation
of the mystery; at last there was a partial explanation of the curious
throng.

As the occupants chatted, or kept frigid and uneasy silence, in the
outer room a fat man, smooth of face and monkish in appearance,
occasionally appeared at the private portal and admitted one person at
a time.

After disappearing through this door, his visitors were not seen again,
for they left by another door, which automatically closed and locked
itself as they went directly into the hall corridor where the elevators
ran.

In the private office of the "Mercantile Agency" the fat man would sit
at his desk and listen attentively to the words of his visitor.

"Speak up, Joe. You know I'm hard of hearing--don't whisper to me,"
was the tenor of a remark which he seemed to direct to every visitor.
Yet strangely enough he frequently stopped to listen to voices in the
outer room, which he appeared to recognize without difficulty.

On this particular afternoon a dapper-dressed youth was an early caller.

"Well, Tom, what luck on the steamer? Now, don't swallow your voice.
Remember, I got kicked in the ear by a horse before I quit bookmaking,
and I have to humor my hearing."

"Oh, it was easy. That Swede, Jensen, came over, you know, and he had
picked out a couple of peachy Swede girls who were going to meet their
cousin at the Battery. Minnie and I went on board ship as soon as she
docked, to meet our relatives, and we had a good look at 'em while they
were lined up with the other steerage passengers. They were fine, and
we got Jensen to take 'em up to the Bronx. They're up at Molloy's
house overnight. It's better to keep 'em there, and give 'em some
food. You know, the emigrant society is apt to be on the lookout
to-day. The cousin was there when