The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1922-09-27
CHATTER V.

tO al 1sSAS llAhtb ! N No Ae'
 CHAPTER V. Some Conquest.
 You told a. lady you were going to write my autobiography?
 Hammirs angry powers were re- turning.
 "I only told her I was going to do some magazine work in your behelf,' I explained 1 never break my "oro to a lady"
 "who is this lady?" he demanded.
 I'm not mentioning names. Her first name begins with A although and she seems mighty anxious to have you reelected. I told her I'd attend to it."
 Of couse I was putting him to all sorts of guesses- He could begin by guessing whether she had known me before last night, and how I had learned the only name knew for her He could keep on guessing whetn@r she really wanted him to accept my work, and would be angry if he turn ed me down. But he could hardly help guessing I knew too much for summary treatment.
 He writhed uncomfortably as i'm terrupted the guessing game with: Hadn't we better get down to the contract, your excellency?"
 But he was drawing in his horns
 'I beg your pardon, MT. Moore" suddenly announced. You see that I am so ill I can hardly think. MT Jones, have you that contract you drew up?"
 I read it when Jones handed out the legal looking document.
 This won't do." I objected. How am I to know what will satisfy your"
 "How are we to know that you are capable of satisfying anybody" MT Jones put in now.
 saw in an instant that he was a lawyer.
 Well, I'm sent here by responsible tpublishers known to you" I argued. q can't spend my time and work on the chance of satisfying whims."
 MT. Jones finally offered to pay me half price for a first insta1ment to be submitted to the Governor as soon as done, provided the instalment were unsa tisfactory and showed I could not do the job.
 let it go at that. I figured that would get that first instalment done overnight and beat out my own pian of a weekly advance. A hundred and sixty-six dollars and sixty-six cents would keep me while I finished
 IFamnlil went to sleep while Jones signed up for nm as attorney 1HeH Jones piloted me to a room in the big mansion and told me I could work there.
 I took 1t that Hammil was nightly interested in this history Of his life. He had seen to it thatAI was well fix ed. There was a mahogany desk with a typewriter cabinet and a leather lined pivot chair. also sofa on which a man might collect his tired thoughts The room had it's own washbasin and running water. fine light and a view that was truly beau tiful.
 There was even a sideboard with it's hospitable little doors standing open to reveal several bottles of men tai reviver that I knew I should not need and a choice selection of brands of cigars and cigarettes.
 You'll find MT. Hammils notes in these drawers Jones told me, indi- eating one side Of the big desk, ana stationery in the others. Of course the library downstairs is at your dis posa1. If you need anything you don'r find here, ring the bell there"
 The place made me giddy. I felt that one of the things I had lacked heretofore had been proper surround ings in which to work.
 By the way, MT. Moore" Jones asked before leaving me, "What has been your line in writing heretofore?''
 Fiction entirely I answered.
 Friction, eh ?'' he repeated nusing- ly Well. that ought to be good preparation for the task before you.'
 There was a grin on his face as he went out and closed the door.
 And I grinned all over. I danced a little hornpipe around that gorgeous office or studio, or whatever I wanted to call it. My inspiration was working for fair.
 Then I got out Hammils notes and began to read them. A little after 1 o'clock some one came and woke me up and told me lunch was served in the main dining room.
 By smoking four cigars, each stronger than the one before it, I with difficulty managed to read some more without going to sleep. Any body who could arouse the interest of his own mother in the stuff HammiI was willing to tell about himself would have to be able to walk up the side of the Woolworth Building. The only Interesting thing about those notes was the colossal conceit that could imagine any one could be in- terested.
 To weave them into a story any one