Part 18 (1/2)

away on somethin' like everything depended on speed. He's a great, big fat bird, with one of them trick Chaplin mustaches and he's smokin' a cigar as big as he is. His head is playin' it's hairless day. All in all, he looked like big business, and my knees is knockin' together till I'm afraid he'll hear 'em and turn around. Alex gumshoes up to the desk and without sayin' a word, he lays the neckband right down beside Calder, who immediately swings around with a snort.

”What's all this--how did you get in here?” he bellers.

”We took the subway down from Ninety-sixth Street,” says Alex. ”That thing you got in your hand is the neckband of a s.h.i.+rt.”

”Well?” growls Calder, tappin' the desk with a lead pencil.

”It contains two collar b.u.t.tons--one front and one back,” says Alex.

”As you may have noticed, they are built right into the cloth and are meant to come _attached to the s.h.i.+rt_. This does away forever with the necessity of buying a collar b.u.t.ton. It cannot be broken, lost or mislaid. Any s.h.i.+rt manufacturer making s.h.i.+rts with this neckband attached will naturally have the bulge on his rivals. I can turn out the neckband for practically nothing. I hold the patent.”

Calder sneers.

”Ha!” he says. ”There's a million cranks come in my office every day.

I suppose you want to sell me this, eh?”

”No, sir!” says Alex, with a pleasant grin.

I liked to fell through the floor at that!

”_No_, sir?” repeats Calder, droppin' the pencil.

”No, sir!” answers Alex.

”Well, what the--what _do_ you want then?” roars Calder. ”Come now, speak up. I'll give you five minutes, that's all!”

”That's three minutes more than I got to spare!” chirps Alex, pullin'

over a chair. ”I don't want you to _buy_ this neckband, Mister Calder.

What I want is this--I know that _you_ are the greatest authority on s.h.i.+rts and everything connected with the business, in the United States if not in the world! I think I have a big thing here, a thing that will revolutionize one end of that business. I say I _think_ so, because I don't know. Now--the concern I represent wants your opinion of it. We're willing to pay to have you, the world's greatest authority, go on record as to the merits of this invention. If you say it's no good, I'll throw it away and forget about it; if you say it's good, I'll have no trouble placing it anywhere in the world!”

Well, say! That old guy brightens all up when Alex calls him the champion s.h.i.+rtmaker of the world, and pickin' up the band, he turns it over in his hands a few times. You could see that the old salve Alex handed him had gone big!

”Hmph!” he says, finally. ”How much would these things cost me?”

”Roughly speakin', about three cents each,” says Alex.

”How long will they stand up under laundering?” is the next question Calder fires at him.

”They're the only thing that won't come out in the was.h.!.+” answers Alex, without battin' an eye.

The old guy smiles and presses a b.u.t.ton. In comes a clerk.

”Send in Mister Lacy, no matter what he's doing, at once!” barks Calder. He turns to Alex as the clerk flees from the room. ”Have you been anywhere else with this?” he asks.

Alex looks pained.

”Why, Mister Calder!” he says, ”certainly not! Before I went any further I wanted the opinion of the greatest--”

This Lacy guy comes in.

”Mister Lacy is superintendent of our manufacturing department,” says Calder. ”I'm going to talk with him for three minutes about the effect of the war on the onion crop in Beloochistan. I'll send for you at the expiration of that time. Ah--you can leave the--ah--neckband here!”