brought his
young wife with him from the South.

He soon connected himself as a canvasser with one of the great agencies
and advanced rapidly. He was so smiling, so bland, so insistent, so
magnetic, that business came to him rapidly. He became the star man in
this New York concern and Alfred Cookman, who was its owner and manager,
was soon pondering what he could do to retain him. No individual or
concern could long retain Daniel C. Summerfield, however, once he
understood his personal capabilities. In two years he had learned all
that Alfred Cookman had to teach him and more than he could teach him.
He knew his customers and what their needs were, and where the lack was
in the service which Mr. Cookman rendered them. He foresaw the drift
toward artistic representation of saleable products, and decided to go
into that side of it. He would start an agency which would render a
service so complete and dramatic that anyone who could afford to use his
service would make money.

When Eugene first heard of this agency, the Summerfield concern was six
years old and rapidly growing. It was already very large and profitable
and as hard and forceful as its owner. Daniel C. Summerfield, sitting in
his private office, was absolutely ruthless in his calculations as to
men. He had studied the life of Napoleon and had come to the conclusion
that no individual life was important. Mercy was a joke to be eliminated
from business. Sentiment was silly twaddle. The thing to do was to hire
men as cheaply as possible, to drive them as vigorously as possible, and
to dispose of them quickly when they showed signs of weakening under the
strain. He had already had five art directors in as many years, had
"hired and fired," as he termed it, innumerable canvassers, ad writers,
book-keepers, stenographers, artists--getting rid of anyone and everyone
who showed the least sign of incapacity or inefficiency. The great
office floor which he maintained was a model of cleanliness, order--one
might almost say beauty of a commercial sort, but it was the
cleanliness, order and beauty of a hard, polished and well-oiled
machine. Daniel C. Summerfield was not much more than that, but he had
long ago decided that was what he must be in order not to be a failure,
a fool, and as he called it, "a mark," and he admired himself for being
so.

When Mr. Baker Bates at Hudson Dula's request went to Mr. Summerfield in
regard to the rumored vacancy which really existed,