The Efficiency Expert

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Page 37

and politicians. It was, as a certain wit described it, a social
goulash, for in addition to its regular habitues there were those few
who came occasionally from the upper stratum of society in the belief
that they were doing something devilish. As a matter of fact, slumming
parties which began and ended at Feinheimer's were of no uncommon
occurrence, and as the place was more than usually orderly it was with
the greatest safety that society made excursions into the underworld of
crime and vice through its medium.



Feinheimer liked Jimmy's appearance. He was big and strong, and the
fact that Feinheimer always retained one or two powerful men upon his
payroll accounted in a large measure for the orderliness of his place.
Occasionally one might start something at Feinheimer's, but no one was
ever known to finish what he started.

And so Jimmy found himself waiting upon table at a place that was both
reputable and disreputable, serving business men at noon and criminals
and the women of the underworld at night. In the weeks that he was there
he came to know many of the local celebrities in various walks of life,
to know them at least by name. There was Steve Murray, the labor leader,
whom rumor said was one of Feinheimer's financial backers--a large man
with a loud voice and the table manners of a Duroc-Jersey. Jimmy took an
instinctive dislike to the man the first time that he saw him.

And then there was Little Eva, whose real name was Edith. She was a
demure looking little girl, who came in every afternoon at four o'clock
for her breakfast. She usually came to Jimmy's table when it was vacant,
and at four o'clock she always ate alone. Later in the evening she would
come in again with a male escort, who was never twice the same.

"I wonder what's the matter with me?" she said to Jimmy one day as he
was serving her breakfast. "I'm getting awfully nervous."

"That's quite remarkable," said Jimmy. "I should think any one who
smoked as many cigarettes and drank as much whisky as you would have
perfect nerves."

The girl laughed, a rather soft and mellow laugh. "I suppose I do hit
it up a little strong," she said.

"Strong?" exclaimed Jimmy. "Why, if I drank half what you do I'd be in
the Washingtonian Home in a week."

She looked at him quizzically for a moment, as she had looked at him
often since he had gone to work for Feinheimer.

"You're a funny guy," she

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