L. Frank Baum

“ Mershone; I'm no judge, myself. I'm so young—and inexperienced."
"Who is your employer?"
"Oh, I'm just sent out by an agency."
"Is it a big paying proposition?" asked Charlie, eyeing the diffident youth beside him critically, as if to judge his true caliber.
"Not very big. You see, if I'd been a better detective you'd never have spotted me so quickly."
"I suppose money counts with you, though, as it does with everyone else in the world?" ”

“ The youth turned the paper, glanced casually at his neighbor, and continued reading.
"A detective, I believe," said Mershone, in a low, matter of fact tone.
"Who? me?" asked Fogerty, lowering the paper.
"Yes. Your age deceived me for a time. I imagined you were a newsboy or a sporting kid from the country; but now I observe you are older than you appear. All sorts of people seem to drift into the detective business. ”

“ Every business is undertaken to make money."
Mershone drew his chair a little nearer.
"I need a clever detective myself," he announced, confidentially. "I'm anxious to discover what enemy is persecuting me in this way. Would it—er—be impossible for me to employ you to—er—look after my interests?"
Fogerty was very serious.
"You see, sir," he responded, "if I quit this job they may not give me another. In order to be a successful detective one must keep in the good graces of the agencies."
"That's easy enough," asserted Mershone. "You may pretend to keep this job, but go home and take life easy. ”