The manager's tone was hard as nails.

"Oh, Mr. Clemm ... well, excuse me. I must step behind your desk to
get it, but you ain't treatin' me right, just the same, to force it
this way."

Madame Blanche, with becoming modesty, stepped out of view in order to
draw forth from their silken resting place four new one hundred dollar
bills. She laid them gingerly and regretfully on the desk, where they
were quickly snatched up by the business-like Clemm.

"Maybe I'll have a little order for next week, if you can give better
terms, Mr. Clemm," began the lady, but the manager waved her aside.

"Nix, Madame. Get out. I'm busy. You know the terms, and I advise
you not to try any more of this hold-out game. You're a week late now,
and the next time you try it you'll be sorry. Hurry. I've got a lot
of people to see."

She left, wiping her eyes.

The next man to enter was somewhat mutilated. His eye was blackened
and the skin across his cheek was torn and just healing from a fresh
cut.

"Well, well, well! What have you been up to, Barlow? A prize fight?"
snapped Clemm.

"Aw, guv'nor, quit yer kiddin'. Did ye ever hear of me bein' in a
fight? Nix. I tried to work dis needle gag over in Brooklyn an' I got
run outen de t'eayter on me neck. Dere ain't no luck. I'd better go
back to der dip ag'in."

"You stick to orders and stay around those cheap department stores, as
you've been told to do, and you'll have no black eyes. Last month you
brought in eleven hundred dollars for me, and you got three hundred of
it yourself. What's the matter with you? You look like a panhandler?
Don't you save your money? You've got to keep decently dressed."

"Aw, guv'nor, I guess it's easy come, easy go. Ain't dere nottin'
special ye kin send me on?"

"Report here to-morrow at eleven. We're planning something pretty
good. Here's ten dollars. Go rig yourself up a little better and get
that eye painted out. Hustle up. I'm busy."

The dilapidated one took the bill and rolled his good eye in gratitude.

"Sure, guv'nor, you're white wid me. I kin always git treated right
here."

"Don't thank me, it's business. Get out and look like a man when I see
you next. I don't want any bums working for me."

The fat man jotted down a memorandum of his outlay on the little
machine. Then he admitted the next caller.

"Ah, it's you, Jimmie. Well, what have you to say? You've been
working pretty well, so Shepard tells me.