Part 18 (1/2)

When I found leisure to examine them, I drew samples from each bale and carefully estimated the number, finding they checked up with the amount of filled sausage cartons stolen from the car.

Before leaving the warehouse I had our barrel put into the same room and secured it with a special Government padlock. Recent correspondence had developed that it contained a very rare German aniline dye, which American manufacturers had as yet been unable to produce, and offers for it had risen to such a fabulous sum I was afraid to tell Hiram about it for the present.

When I reached my office, my clerk, Miss Bascom, was out to luncheon, but I had not been there long before Superintendent Kitch.e.l.l came in and formally introduced Mr. Hiram Strong, Sr., whom he had mentioned as being in transit over the system in his private car, and asked me to extend any possible courtesy, after which he bowed himself out obsequiously.

I knew I was in the presence of a man. He was tall and his full chest and very broad shoulders impressed me as they had impressed Hiram. His hair was iron gray and his very hat seemed to be made to order for him.

His eyes appeared to penetrate without effort the object on which they turned, and one knew instinctively that he could and would note any discrepancy between what a person thought and what he uttered.

I saw at once how Hiram, Jr., had come by his nose piece, also his fine, clear skin and chiseled mouth.

Superintendent Kitch.e.l.l, contrary to his boast, had told him all he knew about Hiram, Jr. He did not seem to want to hear more from me, but did want some information about getting down the river to the Hunting Club, where he was going to shoot ducks.

”I left New York supposing I could dispense with my secretary for a few weeks anyhow, but in that I am disappointed. Would it be too much trouble to obtain a stenographer to write some letters for me?”

Hiram Strong, Sr., like his son, was one to whom anything within reason could not be refused.

”Such talent is very scarce in New Orleans now, but if you can manage with my clerk, Miss Bascom, who is fairly efficient, you are welcome to her services--if she does not object,” was the only thing I could say.

”I think she will do; in fact, almost any one,” he a.s.sured me.

But somehow I felt that I was doing the wrong thing, for it suddenly occurred to me that Miss Bascom's att.i.tude or position was so clouded and mysterious that, until I knew more, I should not trust her with anything important. But Hiram Strong, Sr., was not a man to be refused.

When Miss Bascom came in I introduced her and was about to explain what was wanted, when I stopped in amazement. The moment I mentioned the name ”Mr. Strong” her face became white as marble, she raised her hand as though to advance and greet him, but it fell and she stood as though petrified, while I explained what he desired.

”I--I hope I will be able to serve you,” she managed to say, while she gazed fixedly at him. I could not guess whether it was fear or other excitement.

”My work is simple correspondence, and I am sure you will be able to manage it,” he replied a.s.suringly, and I was not certain whether he was admiring her quail-like figure and unusually pretty face, or, like myself, was trying to divine the unusual excitement under the light bronze hair.

”I will do my best,” she managed to say, beginning to edge away toward her desk by the window.

”Would it be asking too much for you to come out to the car? It is just under the train shed.”

”Not at all, with Mr. Taylor's permission,” she replied quickly, in a more natural tone. I nodded approval without looking at her, but did not relax my endeavor to see if Hiram Strong, Sr., had missed anything and decided he had not. He was not of that sort.

She went to her desk, obtained notebook and pencils, and stood expectantly looking out of the window as though steeling herself for an ordeal.

”I will undoubtedly see you again before I go, Mr. Taylor--I hope I will not greatly inconvenience you by taking away your clerk,” he added suavely, going to the door and opening it as a sign for her to go with him.

”Anything more I can do for you will be a pleasure, Mr. Strong,” I said, meeting his eye and getting a full message from him.

After they were gone I remained at my desk endeavoring to reach a logical conclusion as to the att.i.tude of this girl, who, at that moment, I was ready to p.r.o.nounce ”infernal,” probably because she had so far baffled me. It is true I had not given her any serious attention; perhaps I should have done so. I reviewed in my mind her traffic with Becker and the chief clerk, Burrell, and the fact that I was quite positive she was the author of the anonymous notes to Hiram. I decided to put a rod in pickle for her, at once.

I asked that her movements be accounted for every hour, and something positive be dug up concerning her antecedents, as soon as I reached the Department office, which precaution was rewarded sooner than expected.

The remainder of the afternoon was spent in securing an auxiliary gasoline tank and an air-compressor, which Hiram, Jr., had said he must have to complete his running outfit.

”Old man,” he began, as soon as he came in that evening, looking as dirty and disreputable as a longsh.o.r.eman, ”we have a dandy outfit--the captain says we can run away from anything. You've got the tank and air-pump? Fine, old man, we will soon kill off Becker and the whole crowd. All we need now is that saw-mill in the 'Dead Hoss' warehouse, and we are ready.” He finished with great enthusiasm, stripping his upper body for a complete clean-up before eating dinner.

”Did you start the engine, Hiram?”