The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1899-11-17
Tie TdCiEurnity Of
No. Is.
A Story OF tho Uulucky Number
BY w. r. Rose.

always a busy man, but just now he
seemed to carry about all the steam
that could be considered safe. At least
that's the way it struck No. Is.
The Chicago man had come down as
usual to help somebody or something out
of tight place. When some particular
project reached point where nobody
else could move it an inch further, they
sent for the Chicago hustler, and he
pushed it through. He was a fellow of
infinite nerve, was the Chicago man. with
q thorough contempt for money, and
that's what No. Is particularly liked
about him. At luncheon time he would
toss No. IS half dollar and tell him
to fill up. No. Is knew where he could
fill up on 10 cents. but he made no bones
about accepting the half dollars. And
sometimes No. Is took ride with the
hustler in carriage. for carriages were
daily necessities with the Chicago man.
When he came to Bluffland, he had the
best suit of rooms that the best hotel
could provide. In short, there was moth
ing too good for the man from Chicago.
When he came to Blufiand, he always
sent for No. Is.
No. Is was a model messenger boy, as
the Chicago man had speedily discover
ed. He knew the topography of the city
as well as il he had laid it out. He was
q walking gazetteer of commercial men
and marts. He was a quick boy, a
sure boy, and. above all, he was q boy
who rarely talked.
That's what I like about the cub"
said the Chicago man one day. HE does
exactly what he's told to do and asks no
questions. He's one boy in q thousand.
Unlucky number? Pooh. pooh! I'd hire
him for that very reason If no other.
There's no blanked superstition about
your friend John Dexter"
And SO every time he came to Bluff
land he telephoned over and secured the
services of No. 13 by the day. Once
they sent him another No. ID. whom he
promptly returned.
Give me the original Jacobs" he tel
ephoned to the messenger office, "or all
is at an end between u.s."
He got him.
No. Is was a medium sized boy Of
perhaps II, inclining a little toward
stoutncss. with q large pale face and
coarse black hair. He had one other pc
culiarity besides his limited speech. He
always wore his official cap. He was
wearing it on this particular morning in
September as he stood studying a large
map that hung on the wall of the private
office of the eminent vessel owner who
had offered the hustler the use of the
room during his stay in the city. The
eminent vessel owner and the bank pres
ident from down stairs were with the
hustler now.
"You see, Dexter" said the bank presi-
dent, IF we don't show a clear title to
that tract by noon today the deal with
the New York syndicate is all off. Now,
how do you stald?'
81 got options on it all yesterday after
noon, all except the lot on the northeast
corner. It's the property of a German
named Finkelstein, who runs a little
bakery and confectionery store. I've
looked upon him as the easiest fish in the
bunch to land"
"Well. land him this morning without
fall" said the bank president. What
do you propose to offer?"
1.-THE whole Finkelstein outfit would
be dear at $6,000," said the hustler.
That's what l expect to offer"
"Offer him up to $4,000 if you have
to-" growled the vessel owner. 1--WE must
have that corner"
The eminent promoter smiled.
Trust me-" he said. IN have him
here in 40 minutes and square him in half
the time"
He drew forward sheet Of paper and
rapidly scrubbed a note, the vessel owner
and the bank president retiring while he
wrote.
"No. 49," he said as he addressed the
envelope. The hoy came forward. Take
that to the address given and wait and
bring the answer"
The boy took the note and briskly start
ed out.
1t was just 40 minutes later by the
Chicago mans infallible watch when he
returned. He was not alone. A plainly
dressed man n little past middle age.
with an unmistakable German face, was
with him. The hustler looked up as they
entered.
"Mr. Fin.elstein?' he half inquired.
The stranger bowed awkwardly. He
was evidently i'll at ease.
Take a chair here" said the Chicago
man, and as the stranger came forward
No. Is slipped around to the big map on
| the wall directly behind the man from
Chicago.
"Mr. Finkelstein." said the hustler,
| I'm man of few words. A client Of
mine has seen your little bakeshop and
| thinks he might buy it. Do you want to
sell?"
The baker had shifty little eyes that
roamed all over the apartment.
"Yell." he slowly said. II ton't know.
I toni think much apout it."
MY client will give you $4,000 cash.
said the Chicago man briskly.
The hakpr hra0thpd hard His ewes
travelled about the room.
II toni wish to SELL" he murmured.
"Oh. WE'LL" said the hustler pleasantly,
swell call it seven"
The baker looked very warm.
81 hat lived in dot house dwenty-seven
years." he said. II guess keep it a lit
tie vile yet"
The hustler appeared trife bored. He
glanced at his watch. 1t was just II
o'clock.
"Oh. come" he said. "You know that's
big price, an extravagant price. The
old building-2T years old, you say-real-
" counts for nothing in the trade. aid
you know the lot alone isn't worth any
such figure. Come, now! I'll give you
eight
The perspiration stood in big drops on
the bakers bald head.
Il put new roof on dot building only
dree years ago." he hoarsely whispered.
81 guess you don't care to sell, Mr.. Fin.
| kelstein," said the hustler coldly. \ look
| of relief came over the bakers face. If
you did," the hustler hastily added. you
would take $4,000 for your place and
have this bother all over within ten min
utes."
The baker seemed to shrink in his
chair. His little eyes assumed pitiful
expression and rested apparently on the
map behind the hustler.
| He feebly shook his head.
The hustler snatched out his watch. 1t
was HIS.
"Comc, come" lie cried. "This is all
nonsense. | admire your sentiment, Mr..
Finkelstein, of course, and can see that
| you do not desire any change, but I'll
help yeu make that change and find you
better place at half the money" He
paused expectantly.
Again the old man, his eyes fixed on
the map. shook his head.
'Call it Sill 600"
"No," said Mr.. Finkelstein quite bold.
ly. Il do not wish to SELL"
The hustler slightly gasped.
"Well. $4,000 then"
'Nein-I mean no.
The hustler stared at the baker. It
looked as if the estimable German was
getting what in sporting parlance would
be called his second wind.
The Chicago man was evidently both