Black and Blue Magic Read Online Free PDF Page A

over on the bench to make room for Harry. “You must sit down and rest a moment. I know only too well how tiring it is for a rather small person to carry this heavy case.”
    Harry was in a hurry to get started for home, but he sat down for a moment to be polite. The stranger was still chattering away. “I am greatly indebted to you. You can’t imagine what the loss of my case would have meant. I’m very much afraid it would have been the last straw—the Final Mistake, you might say.”
    “Final?” Harry asked. The word had such an unpleasant sound.
    “Yes, in a sense. At the very least it would have greatly increased my troubles.”
    “Are you already in trouble, then?” Harry asked.
    “Trouble?” The man gave a deep sigh, and his face, for a second, seemed to take on a depth Harry would have thought impossible a moment before. “Is it not trouble that I am a wanderer upon the face of the earth; that I have no place to call my own; that my back is tired and my feet ache; that I must find a place to stay in a new city every few days ...
    It was at that point that Harry interrupted. He hadn’t helped run a boarding house for almost six years for nothing. “Have you a place to stay in San Francisco?” he asked quickly.
    “I stopped at a small hotel last night. But it was not particularly satisfactory. If it looks as if my business will keep me in the city for a while, I may have to look elsewhere.”
    “I know just the place for you,” Harry said quickly, pulling out his wallet. He always carried a few of his mother’s cards for just such occasions. “My mother runs a boarding house on Kerry Street. Nice and quiet and good home-cooking. A lot of traveling salesmen come back to our place every time they’re in town.”
    The man stretched his arm up over the suitcase to take the card. It was a little dirty and beat up, but you could still see that it said:
    MARCO’S BOARDING HOUSE
    318 Kerry Street
    Mrs. Lorna Marco, Proprietress
    Quiet—Comfortable—Good Food
    “You are a salesman, aren’t you?” Harry asked.
    The little man gave one of his big sighs. “Yes indeed,” he said. “I am a salesman.”
    “I thought so,” Harry said. “I can usually spot a traveling salesman right away, because we have so many of them stay with us. I don’t know, though, if I would have guessed about you or not. That is, if we hadn’t talked. But I do know something about what you’re selling, I’ll bet.”
    “You know what I’m selling?” The man clutched the suitcase against his chest. His eyes peering over the top rounded with horror and then flattened with indignation. “You opened it!” he accused. “What right had you to open my case? You must swear that you will not tell ...
    “Gee Mister,” Harry interrupted. “I didn’t open your case. I was just starting to say I knew it sure was heavy, whatever it was. I was just making a joke.”
    After a moment the man relaxed and sighed with relief. “I see that you are telling the truth. Forgive me. This has been a very trying day and I am not myself.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out the funny old watch. “I must be going now. I have an appointment with a possible customer. But I will remember what you have done for me.”
    From a pocket inside his coat, he brought something out and handed it to Harry. “May I present my card in return,” he said. The card was thick and heavy, with a worn and yellowed look about it. The printing was so fancy and so covered with curlicues that it was hard to tell what it said. It wasn’t until later, that Harry made out all the letters and decided that it said:
    Tarzack Mazzeeck
    Representative-at-Large
    for the
    A. A. Comus Co.
    The little man was glancing nervously at his watch again. “I really must hurry along,” he said. “But we shall meet again soon. I fear I shall never be able to repay sufficiently the favor you have done me.”
    “Oh, it wasn’t anything,” Harry said. “And it was nice