New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1920-08-15
Thy THIS time Barney Cook
was a sleuth of several weeks
~ experience. Disguised as a


over a post-box on street corner
until he had succeeded in identifying
q blackmailer who was sending
threatening letters to client of the
Babbing Bureau. He had peddled
chewing gum at subway entrance
in Harlem, on the lookout for a
cashier who was leading a double
life, and he had located the fat in
which the suspect concealed himself.
Out at all hours of the night, eating
from his pocket and sleeping only
when he was off shift, he had en-
joyed the life OF street Arab, gloat-
ing over his adventures and taking
his pay home to his mother, without
counting it, as contemptuOus as a
young genius for the wages of his
art.
But he had also to make out daily
reports of his hours on duty, the
items of his expenses, and those in
cidents of his days work that con-
cerned the case on which he was en-
gagged. And no schoolroom compost
tions could have been more tedious.
At first he had been allowed to mar
rate his report to a stenOgrapher,
who put it into shape and.typed it
for him; later, he was required to
write it out, for the stenographer to
correct and typewrite; but now he
had to type it himself, and retype it
when the stenographer had revised
his spelling and his punctuation, and
then type it again if the office man
ager edited (which he invariably
did.
No cub reporter was ever more
harassed. After hours of exhaust
ing ''leg work" he had to hang over
his machine till the back of his neck
ached, pounding the keys till his
stubby fingers were sore. He had to
learn to spell. 1t was evident that
he could never learn to punctuate.
He had moments when he was as un-
happy as if he had been sent back to
school.
He was enduring such moment
in the operatives room on this par
ticular morning when he was called
to Babbing's private Office by mes
sage on the Office phone, and he went
as eagerly as if it were the recess
bell that had rung.
He found Babbing talking to a
client "a heavy shouldered, black
young man, with remarkable fore
head-whom he introduced as Mr.. P.
P. Harper. Il think I'll put you in
his Office" Babbing explained, "as an
Office boy-from what he has told me
of the case. Sit down. I want you
to hear the Details"
Harper was looking Barney over,
and he did not notice the slow, sig
nificant scrutiny with which Babbing
put the boy on his guard.
as he detective?" Harper asked.
"You would never suspect it, eh?"
Babbing said.
II certainly would not"
That's what makes him so sue
cessful. Tell me, now; your office is
in the Broad Street Building?"
"Yes."
Are you a broker?"
"No; Pm promoter" Harper an
swered. "And a financial ADVISER
"For whom?"
"Well, chiefly, for the Van Am
berg estate"
Babbing turned to Barney, who
had seated himself at the left of the
desk. Mr.. Harper" he explained,
lis being annoyed by anonymous let
tiers. He wants us to find out who's
sending them" And again there
was evidently concealed, behind his
placid spectacles, some private
thought which the boy could not de-
cipher.
Harper said: "They don't come
to ME. To my wife"
"What put the Van Amberg es-
tate in your Office"
my wife was the only daughter
Of old Jacob Van Amberg."
clad he any other children?"
"a son." q
care you his financial adviser,
also?"
"No. He handles his own prop
erty."
"And you handle your wife's?"
Eyes"
why don't you handle your
brother-in-law's, too? Smoker"
Babbing had taken a box of cigars
from a drawer of his desk. Harper
selected one mechanically. "My re-
lations with my brother-in-law are
not very cordial. Don't you smoke
yourself?"
Babbing had closed the box. "No,"
he said. THAT'S one Of the little