Part 9

Nevertheless, Adolph, the shrewd fool, finally found the man for whom he was searching. A man may nearly always find trouble if he searches for it industriously, and Adolph was industrious. Unfortunately for him, however, he treated several other solicitors to his knowing wink before he met the one who agreed to his proposition, and, when it was learned that Adolph was taking out a policy on his wife's life, they were quick to reach conclusions. But it was none of their business, and they said nothing. What they knew merely made it easier to prove the case, if the question should ever arise. The solicitor who finally entered into the deal was one who had done the same thing before. He was "broke" a good part of the time, and, when in that condition, he did not question closely the ethics of any proposition that promised an early, even though small, cash return. He was an outcast among such of the many conscientious men of the fraternity as knew him, but the local agent of the company that employed him was not particular, and there were rumors that the company itself might have been more strict.

Anyhow, Adolph got the policy he wanted. His wife was disposed to object at first, for she had not been consulted until Adolph had made his bargain. There was no use, he argued, in telling her about it until he knew what he was going to do.

"I buy you a policy," he finally told her in the tone that a man--another man--might tell his wife he would buy her a sealskin coat.

"What's that?" she asked.

"It pays _zwei_ t'ousand dollars," he explained.

Mrs. Schlimmer was not enthusiastic.

"When?" she asked.

"When you are in the grafe," he answered after a pause.

"What's the use to me?" she persisted.

"My dear," he said, with such gallantry as he could command, "it shows what you iss vorth."

Somehow, she was not flattered. She was a good wife, who worked hard, and she herself thought she was worth it, but she was selfish enough to think she ought to realize on her own value.

"No, _nein_," he argued, "it ain't the vay it's done. You got yourself, ain't it, yes? When you ain't got yourself, you ain't here, but I am. You don't looss yourself when you die, but I looss you, and you're vorth a lot."

"There's other women," she retorted.

"But they ain't vorth what you are by _zwei_ t'ousand dollars," he insisted, and this delicate bit of flattery won the day. After all, it made no difference to her. She rebelled a little at going to the insurance office to be examined, however.

"You tell 'em I'm all right," she urged. "You know."

But a new gown--a cheap one--gained this point, and she went.

Adolph prided himself very much on this stroke of business. His great aim in life was to pay a little less than the market price for everything, and he was never convinced that he was really doing this unless the deal had to be carried out in some underhand way. When he could buy for less than others he was making so much more money, and it was his experience that the biggest profit lay in shady transactions. In others he had made, or saved, much more than in this, but the difficulties he encountered in this instance convinced him that it was an especially notable achievement. He was proud of his success.

"You bet you, they don't fool me very much," he asserted frequently.

And, in time, he told how clever he was. Not at first, however; he was very cautious at first, for Murray's words had made an impression on him. But, after he had paid a few premiums, the lapse of time gave him a feeling of security, and one day, in boasting of his business shrewdness, he mentioned that he was even sharp enough to get life insurance at a bargain. After that, it was easier to speak of it again, and he finally told the story. The news spread in his own little circle. It was quite a feat, and he was held to have demonstrated remarkable cleverness. When another told of some sharp business deal, some one would remark, "Yes, that was clever, but you never got life insurance at a bargain." And, in the course of time--six months or more from the time the story was first breathed--it came to the ears of one Daniel Grady. This was unfortunate, for Daniel at once jumped to the conclusion that he had been cheated. Daniel had a small policy in the same company, and this policy was costing him the full premium without rebate of any kind from any insurance solicitor or anybody else. Daniel did not like this, and neither did he like Adolph; in fact, he would have been willing to pay a little higher premium for the privilege of making trouble for Adolph. Failing that, Daniel would like to get on even terms with him.

"It's th' divil iv a note," said Daniel, "that I sh'u'd be payin' more than that little shrimp, an' me only thryin' to take care iv Maggie an' th' childhern. I'll go down to th' office an' push th' face iv th' man in if he don't give me th' same rate, I will so."

But Daniel wisely did nothing of the kind, for he recalled that there were a number of clerks in the office and a police station not far away, and he had no wish to add a fine to his expenses. Instead, after pondering the matter a few weeks and growing steadily more indignant, he went to see a little lawyer who had an office over a saloon, next to a justice of the peace. Daniel planned only to get his premiums reduced, but the lawyer saw other opportunities.

"It's a great chance," said the lawyer. "You're a policy-holder--"

"Who says so?" demanded Daniel, for this sounded to him like an accusation.

"I mean," explained the lawyer, "that you are insured in the company."

"What iv it?" asked Daniel.

"Why, the other policy-holders are the ones discriminated against in a case like this," said the lawyer, "and any one of them can file a complaint."

"I'm not the kind iv a man to do much complainin'," declared Daniel. "I niver see that it did much good. If I c'u'd give Schlimmer a bad turn--"

"That's it; that's it exactly. You can knock his insurance sky-high and get some money yourself."

"Say that wanst more," urged Daniel. "Me hearin' seems to be playin' thricks."

"The law," said the lawyer slowly, "fines a company for doing that--"

"How much?"

"I'll have to look it up. Pretty stiff fine, though, and the informer--"

"I don't like th' word."

"Well, the man who makes the complaint gets half the fine. Do you understand that? Let me take charge of the matter for you, and we'll divide the money."

"Will it hurt me own insurance?" asked Daniel.

"Not a bit."

"I'm not lukkin' to l'ave Maggie an' th' childhern without money whin I die, jist to land a dollar-twinty f'r me own pocket now. That's a Schlimmer thrick."

"Your insurance will be just as good as it ever was," the lawyer asserted.

"Will there be twinty dollars in it f'r me?" Daniel persisted.

"There'll be a good deal more than that--exactly how much I can't say."

"Go ahead," instructed Daniel. "Put the little divil through."

The lawyer investigated and found his task comparatively easy, for Adolph had now personally told the story to several people. Indeed, by the exercise of a little ingenuity, the lawyer got him to tell it to him. Then he acted.

When the news reached the local agency of the company there was no indecision as to what should be done. Unnecessary publicity in a matter of that kind was the very last thing sought. The solicitor was called in, put on the rack, and promptly confessed. Then he was discharged without further questioning. Perhaps the local agent was afraid he might learn of other similar instances if he pressed the matter too far, and he was quite content to remain in ignorance of anything else of that nature, so long as the public also remained in ignorance. The company promptly acknowledged its fault, showed that it had cleared itself morally by discharging the offending agent, and proceeded to clear itself legally by paying the necessary fine.

When the news came to Adolph, however, there was wailing prolonged, for his policy was annulled.

"I bet you," said Adolph, "that feller Murray put up the job. He iss a great hog; he iss like those mono_pol_ists that puts smaller people out of business and gobbles it all."

Then Adolph got a pencil and a sheet of paper and began to figure his losses.

"_Zwei_ t'ousand dollar insurance," he groaned, "and maybe she wouldn't lif long. And I gif her a dress, too--a new dress. _Ach, Himmel!_ it's hard when a man's vife beats him. A new dress for nothing at all but to looss money. That law iss a shame. It iss a--what you call it?--restriction of business."

Thereafter, for some time, the sight of the new gown would make Adolph morose and gloomy, and his friends found him unusually modest and unobtrusive.

AN INCIDENTAL SCHEME

There came to Dave Murray one day a young man who was looking for a job. He was a bright young fellow and seemed to be very earnest.

"I have been a clerk," he explained, "but there is little prospect for the future where I am now, and I want to get something that has some promise in it. In fact, I must do so. I am making barely enough to support my mother and myself, and I may want to marry, you know."

Murray readily admitted that young men frequently were attacked by the matrimonial bacillus and that, there being no sure antidote, the disease had to run its course. "Which is a good thing for the world," he added, "so you are quite right to prepare yourself for the attack. But are you sure that insurance is your field?"

"I have given the subject a good deal of thought," was the reply, "and insurance interests me."

"That's a good sign," commented Murray. "Success is for the man who is interested in his work, and not merely in the financial results of that work."

"Oh, I want to make money, too," said the young man frankly.

"We all do," returned Murray, "but the man who has no other aim than that would better stick to business and let the professions alone. Life insurance has become a profession, like banking. Time was when anybody with money could be a banker, but now it is conceded to require special gifts and a special training. I place life insurance right up in the front rank of the professions, for it is semi-philanthropic. We are not in it for our health, of course, but, if we are conscientious and earnest, we may reasonably flatter ourselves that we are doing a vast amount of good in line with our work. The life insurance solicitor has been the butt of many jokes. Perhaps he himself has been responsible for this, but times have changed and so have methods. If I ever caught one of my men slipping into an office with an apologetic air, like a second-rate book-canvasser, I'd discharge him on the spot. The insurance solicitor of to-day wants to consider himself a business man with a business proposition to make; he must have self-respect and show it. The best men plan their work carefully, do not attempt to hurry matters, and usually meet those that they expect to interest in their proposition by appointment, instead of trying to force the thing upon them by pure nerve. When a fellow becomes a nuisance he is hurting himself, his company and all others in his line. Do you still think insurance the line for you?"

"I can begin," said the young man, by way of reply, "with an application from my present employer. I've been talking insurance to him for practice, and he has agreed to take out a policy. He's a pretty good fellow. He says I'm worth more than he can afford to pay me and he wants to help me along."

"I guess you're all right," laughed Murray. "At any rate, you impress me as being the kind of man I want. Leave your references and come in again tomorrow."

Murray was unusually particular as to the character of the men he employed. It was not enough for him that a man could get business, but he had his own ideas as to the way business should be secured. Absolute integrity and the most painstaking care to state a proposition fairly, without exaggeration, were points upon which he insisted.

"A dissatisfied policy-holder," he said, "is a dead weight to carry; a satisfied policy-holder is an advertisement. If a man finds he is getting a little more than he expected, he is so much better pleased; if he finds he is getting a little less, he feels he has been tricked. Insurance is a good enough proposition, so that you don't have to gild it."

Murray himself, in his younger days, had once secured an application for a large policy by refusing to expatiate on the merits of the particular form of insurance he was advocating.

"Well, let's hear what a beautiful thing it is," the man had said.

"My dear sir," Murray had replied, "it is a straight business proposition, with no frills or twists of any kind. You have the facts and the figures. If you, with your business training, can't see the merit of it, it would be a waste of time for me to attempt any elucidation. I have not the egotism to think I can _talk_ you into taking out a policy. As a matter of fact, this proposition doesn't need any argument, and it would be a reflection on the plain merit of the proposition for me to attempt one."

Different methods for different men. This man never before had seen an insurance solicitor who would not talk for an hour, if he had the chance, and he was impressed and pleased. This was business,--straight business and nothing else. He straightway took out a large policy.

Something of this Murray told the young man when he came back the next day, for he was anxious to impress upon him the fact that life insurance was not like a mining scheme, which has to be painted with all the glories of the sunset in order to float the stock, and that the man who overstated his case would inevitably suffer from the reaction.

Murray had been favorably impressed with the young man--Max Mays was the name he gave--and the employer of Mays had spoken well of him. He was rather a peculiar fellow, according to the employer--always busy with figures or financial stories and seemingly deeply interested in the details of the large business affairs that were discussed in the newspapers and the magazines. Aside from this, he was about like the average clerk who hopes for and seeks better opportunities, and meanwhile makes the best of what he has--reasonably industrious and yet far from forsaking the pleasures of this life.

All in all, Mays seemed like good material from which to make a life insurance man, and the fact that he did not propose to desert his present employer without notice was in his favor. Possibly the fact that he was getting his first commission through the latter had something to do with this, but, anyhow, he planned to continue where he was until a successor had been secured; and too many young men, contemplating such a change, would have let their enthusiasm lead them to quit without notice when they found the new place open to them. This is mentioned merely as one of the things that led Murray to think he had secured a thoroughly conscientious, as well as an ambitious, employee.

When he finally reported for duty Murray gave him certain general instructions, principal among which was this: "Never make a statement that will require explanation or modification later. Any time you decide that the proposition you are making is not good enough to stand squarely on its merits, without exaggeration or deception, direct or inferential, come into the office and resign. Any time you find yourself saying anything that you yourself do not believe implicitly, it is time for you to quit. When you have to explain what you really meant by some certain statement, you are creating doubt and distrust, for the unadulterated truth, of course, does not have to be explained."

For a time Murray watched Mays rather closely--not in the expectation of finding anything wrong, but rather with the idea of giving him helpful suggestions--but the young man seemed to be unusually capable and unusually successful for a beginner. He seemed to be working a comparatively new field--a field that turned up no large policies but that seemed to be prolific of small ones. This, however, was quite natural. Every new man works first among those he happens to know, and Mays was doing business with his old associates. In time, Murray ceased to give him any particular attention, except to note the regularity with which he turned in applications for small policies, and there probably would have been no deviation from the customary routine had it not been for an unexpected and apparently trivial incident.

An application for a small policy had come in through one of the other solicitors. Mays happened to be in the office when the applicant called for his physical examination, but they exchanged no greetings. Apparently they were strangers. Yet Mays slipped out into the hall and intercepted the other as he came from the doctor's office. Murray, emerging suddenly from his own room, saw them talking together and caught this question and answer:

"Is it all right?"

"Of course. I'm a bully good risk, as you call it."

Then, seeing Murray, they hastily separated and went their ways.

Now, why should a friend of Mays apply for insurance through another solicitor? Well, he might have been ignorant, when he made his application, of the fact that Mays was in the insurance business. But why did they give no sign of recognition when they met in the main office? It was quite natural that Mays should be anxious to learn how his friend came out with the physician, but why should he sneak out into the hall to ask the question?

Any evidence of secrecy and underhand work always annoyed Murray. He did not like this, although he could see nothing in it to cause him any anxiety. Nevertheless, he looked up the papers of the man who had just been examined and found that his name was John Tainter and that he lived near Mays. He was a good risk, however, and he got his policy. There was no earthly reason why it should be refused. But Murray watched Mays more carefully and gave painstaking attention to the risks he brought in.

The applicants were generally small tradesmen--usually foreigners--but there was nothing in the least suspicious in any case. Indeed, it was difficult to see how there could be anything wrong, for the safeguards made it practically impossible for a mere solicitor to put up any successful scheme to beat the company, and certainly it would not be tried with any trifling policy. But it annoyed Murray to find that a man he had believed so frank and straightforward was tricky, and he could not, try as he would, find any reason for this trickiness.

Then, one day, while he was waiting in a hotel office for his card to be taken up to the room of a man with whom he had some business, he heard a strangely familiar voice near him making a strangely familiar assertion.

"You bet you, they don't fool me very much," said the voice.

Murray turned to see who it was, but a big square column was in the way. Murray's chair was backed up to one side of this, and the speaker was on the other.

"I can't just place that voice," mused Murray, "but I have heard it somewhere." There was silence for an instant.

"It's going to be vorth something, ain't it, yes?" inquired the voice at last.

"It looks like a big thing and no mistake," was the reply.

"By George!" muttered Murray, "it's that Adolph Schlimmer who tried to get a rebate on his policy, and the fellow with him is Max Mays."

Just then word came that Murray's man would see him, and he had to leave. He was careful, however, to keep the column between him and the two he had found in conversation. It was just as well not to let them know of his presence, for he preferred not to have their suspicions aroused.

There was now little doubt in his mind that some scheme was being worked out. But what? What could these two men, neither of whom was versed in the theory and details of life insurance, do that would be in any way hurtful to the company or advantageous to them? Of course, it was only a surmise that their confidential business concerned him in any way, but association with Schlimmer would be sufficient to make Murray uneasy about any of his men, and the strange action of Mays in the Tainter matter added to his uneasiness.

His first move was to investigate Mays thoroughly, and, to his astonishment, he discovered that, far from having a mother to support, Mays was living with a married brother and had no one to look after but himself. He had told the truth about his business record, but he had lied about his personal responsibilities. That lie had been an artistic one, however, for it had helped materially to get him a position with Murray.

Further investigation showed that there was a light-headed, frivolous young girl, to whom he was devoted and with whom he attended Saturday-night dances in various public halls, but it had to be admitted, to his credit, that he never let these interfere with business and was always on hand with a clear head. At the same time, it threw an entirely new light on his character, and showed him to be not at all the sort of fellow his business record had indicated.

Murray was tempted to discharge him at once, but he refrained for two reasons: first, his action would be dictated by his own disappointment in the man rather than by anything he knew that was definitely derogatory, aside from his falsehood about his mother; second, he wanted a chance to investigate further the association with Schlimmer, and the only way to do this was to pretend to be entirely unsuspicious and entirely satisfied. If there was any kind of scheme that could be put up by two such men, he was interested in finding it out, especially if they had already taken any action. Until the thing was clear, he wished to have Mays within reach.

Mays was shadowed for a few days, but nothing was learned except that he unquestionably had business relations with the unscrupulous Schlimmer, and that they occasionally met in the office of a lawyer in that district.

"A lawyer!" mused Murray. "Now, what the devil do they need of a lawyer? I can't see where he comes in."

"Tainter was with them once," replied the "shadow."

"I certainly never had anything puzzle me like this," remarked Murray. "The separate incidents are so trifling that it seems absurd to attach any importance to them, and yet, taking them all together, I am convinced there is something wrong. I'd like to hear what they have to say to each other."

"That," said the shadow, "can be easily arranged, for they are to meet next Sunday afternoon, and I can get the janitor easily to let us into the adjoining office."

"I'll be there," said Murray.

Now, Murray, in spite of his good nature, was a dignified man, but he knew when to sacrifice his dignity. He was an "office man," but he rather enjoyed an excuse for getting outside and occupying himself in some unusual way. In fact, Murray had the making of a "strenuous" man in him, if fate had not decreed that he should devote his energies to the less exciting task of directing the destinies of a life insurance agency. So he rather enjoyed the mild excitement of getting into the adjoining office unobserved and lying prone on his stomach to get his ear close to the crack under the door. But the reward was not great. The lawyer--a big blustering fellow--was there, and so were Schlimmer, Tainter and Mays, but the meeting seemed to be one for jubilation rather than for planning.

"I got the papers all ready," said the lawyer. "Sign 'em, Tainter, and then we're ready to go ahead the moment Mays gives the word. We want to land all we can."

And that was the only business transacted. The rest of the time was given to gloating over some scheme that was not put in words.

"You bet you, I make that Murray sit up and take notice, yes?" remarked Schlimmer. "I gif him his chance once and I get the vorst of it, but I even up now."