He got out in front of the Astor House. As he left the car he soiled his
shoes with the mud so characteristic of New York streets.

"Shine your boots?" asked a young Arab, glancing with a business eye at
Rodney's spattered shoes.

Rodney accepted his offer, not so much because he thought the blacking
would last, as for the opportunity of questioning the free and
independent young citizen who was doing, what he hoped to do, that is,
making a living for himself.

"Is business good with you?" asked Rodney. "It ought to be with the
street in this condition."

"Yes; me and de Street Commissioner is in league together. He makes
business good for me."

"And do you pay him a commission?" asked Rodney smiling.

"I can't tell no official secrets. It might be bad for me."

"You are an original genius."

"Am I? I hope you ain't callin' me names."

"Oh no. I am only paying you a compliment. What is your name?"

"Mike Flynn."