"Just getting a little business." "How ?" "Well, there's a club downtown," said John, "where a lot of these petty crooks hang out.

I used to deliver papers there.

And I went around one night this month--" "_To drum up business ?_" "Yes, sir." Roger looked at him aghast.
"John," he asked, in deep reproach, "do you expect this office to feed the vanity of thieves ?" "Where's the vanity," John rejoined, "in being called a crime wave ?" And seeing the sudden tremor of mirth which had appeared on Roger's face, "Look here, Mr.Gale," he went eagerly on.

"When every paper in the town is telling these fellers where they belong--calling 'em crooks, degenerates, and preaching regular sermons right into their faces--why shouldn't we help 'em to read the stuff?
How do we know it won't do 'em good?
It's church to 'em, that's what it is--and business for this office.

Nine of these guys have sent in their money just in the last week or so--" "Look out, my boy," said Roger, with slow and solemn emphasis.