MISS LIZZIE HILGER: Your favor at hand. Among numerous applicants I have remembered yours. We desire several young ladies to strengthen the company for our Chicago and Boston engagements, and desire to meet you personally, if possible, to-morrow afternoon. You may object to coming to our office, so please pass the corner of Locust and Eighth Streets to-morrow afternoon (Thursday) about 2:30 (half-past two) o'clock. Yours, respectfully, HARRY RUSSELL, Manager. [Illustration: MME. FANNY JANAUSHEK.] Here then was the "manager's" little game. Of course Harry Russell was not the man's name at all, and of course he had no office to which either Miss Ettie Holan or Miss Lizzie Hilger, or any of the four other girls who had applied for positions through me, "might object to coming," and of course he had nothing to do with strengthening any company's Boston or Chicago engagements. It was evident now, if not before, that the advertisement was a snare to trap the unwary and to pull the wool over the eyes of the innocent and unsuspecting, and I made up my mind to pay a visit to the locality named in the above letters. A visit was paid, after dinner, to the proposed place of meeting. On the way up I met a detective friend, to whom my business was disclosed. The detective said he would go along and "spot" the fellow for future reference, and he did. Handsome Harry was found at his post, gazing up and down and across the street. He was standing in front of a saloon, on the corner, and a friend was hard by, who was to witness the success of the little game. Now and then a young lady passed to or from her home, and every time she came within sight "Manager" Harry began to prepare himself for the "mash." The coat front was readjusted, the shirt collar straightened up, the hat lifted from the head and the fingers run through the hair, and, as a last and finishing touch, the ends of his dainty moustache were fingered and carefully set away from his lips with a silk handkerchief. But here came the young lady. How he stared her in the face as she came towards him, ogled her when near by, and cast a disconsolate and disappointed look after her as she passed. Then he went back to communicate to his friend that she was probably "not the one," or that "maybe she weakened," and again took his stand to watch the next comer. This little business was gone through with as many times as there were young ladies who passed. At last it was evident to the two persons who had their eyes on Harry that he was beginning to weaken, and was about to leave the place for a time at least. Under these circumstances there was only one thing to do--to go over and have a talk with him about the show business and make further engagements for the young ladies who were so anxious to blossom forth on the stage. The detective walked up to the man who was presumably Harry Russell: "Do you know of a man named Harry Russell stopping about here?" asked the detective.