“That’s the unfortunate part of it,” he said; “but it can’t be helped.”
“You spoke of having some one guard the corners of the block,”
continued the girl, after a thoughtful silence. “Do you think I’d
better arrange for that?”
“No need. There’ll be a hundred people on watch.”
“Have you called out the militia?” she asked, twinkling.
“Better than that. I’ve employed the tools of my trade.”
He handed her a galley proof marked with many corrections. She ran
through it with growing amazement.
HAVE YOU SEEN THE DOG?
$100-One Hundred Dollars-$100
FOR THE BEST ANSWER IN 500 WORDS
OPEN TO ALL HIGH SCHOOL BOYS
Between now and next Saturday an old Pug Dog
will come out of a big House on West 16th Street,
between 5th and 6th Avenues. It may be by Day.
It may be at any hour of the Night. Now, you Boys,
get to work.
REMEMBER: $100 IN CASH
HERE ARE THE POINTS TO MIND—
1. Description of the Dog.
2. Description of Person with him.
3. Description of House he Comes from.
4. Account of Where they Go.
5. Account of What they Do.
Manuscripts must be written plainly and mailed
within twenty-four hours of the discovery of the
dog to
A. JONES: AD-VISOR
ASTOR COURT TEMPLE, NEW YORK
“That will appear in every New York paper tomorrow morning,” explained
its deviser.
“I see,” said the girl. “Any one who attempts to take Peter Paul away
will be tracked by a band of boy detectives. A stroke of genius, Mr.
Average. Jones.”
She curtsied low to him. But Average Jones was in no mood for
playfulness now.
“That restricts the judge’s endeavors to the house and garden,” said
he, “since, of course he’ll see the advertisement.”
“I’ll see that he does,” said Miss Graham maliciously.
“Good! I’ll also ask you to watch the garden for any suspicious
excavating.”
“Very well. But is that all?” Miss Graham’s voice was wistful.
“Isn’t it enough?”
“You’ve been so good to me,” she said hesitantly. “I don’t like to
think of you as setting those boys to an impossible task.”
“Oh, bless you!” returned the Ad-Visor heartily; “that’s all arranged
for. One of my men will duly parade with a canine especially obtained
for the occasion. I’m not going to swindle the youngsters.”
“It didn’t seem like you,” returned Miss Graham warmly. “But you must
let me pay for it, that and the advertising bill.”
“As an unauthorized expense—” he began.
She laid a small, persuasive hand on his arm.
“You must let me pay it. Won’t you?”
Average Jones was conscious of a strange sensation, starting from the
point where the firm, little hand lay. It spread in his veins and
thickened his speech.
“Of course,” he drawled, uncertainly, “if you—er—put it—er—that way!”
The hand lifted. “Mr. Average Jones,” said the owner, “do you know you
haven’t once disappointed me in speech or action during our short but
rather eventful acquaintance?”
“I hope you’ll be able to say the same ten years from now,” he returned
significantly.
She flushed a little at the implication. “What am I to do next?” she
asked.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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