Part 25 (2/2)

”Mr. Taylor,” she began, in quiet, sweet, Southern accent, ”I have consented to act a part in good faith, and if I fail it will be because it cannot be done.” Then, with charming a.s.surance, she glanced into the other room and at the telephone before her, and said, ”Explain just what you want me to do.”

She seemed almost too willing and a certain nervousness in her tone left some doubt. But we had arranged for duplicity, and though I felt the ice a little thin, decided to go ahead.

”Miss Bascom, your motive in maintaining relations with Mr. Becker is something of a conjecture that I am not much interested in now. It may interest you, however, to know that I know of your meeting with him in a wine room of this hotel.” Then taking from my pocket a typewritten report of the meeting, I continued, ”The least sound that was made in that room at that time is here recorded as nearly as possible in words and sound of voice. I know what you drank, what he drank, that you submitted to his caresses, kisses, that he made salacious proposals, and there may have been subsequent meetings of which we do not know.”

She started visibly at this and moved uneasily in her chair, laid her chin in her palm and looked straight at me with eyes burning like fire--I thought slightly mixed with alarm and amus.e.m.e.nt, but she did not utter a word, so I continued:

”In order that you proceed intelligently in this matter I will tell you that Becker is a criminal and that we have ample evidence to convict him, but in order to make it easier, and to reach others, I want you to get him to come up here to this room, then actually lure from him what we want.”

She made no sign and I went on:

”There are times when fire must be met with fire, crime sometimes has to be uncovered by finesse, strategy, trick, even downright subterfuge, and this seems to be one of the times. His weakest point is his penchant for pretty women.”

Miss Bascom evidenced intense interest in what I said and seemed to weigh every word I uttered. But she did not appear to want to reply or suggest anything, though she seemed to take on an exultant att.i.tude.

”We have ample evidence to convict him of robbing cars of meat products, and to do this he must have in his possession the seals of the United States Bureau of Animal Industry, and the s.h.i.+ppers of the goods in Kansas City, as well as the railroad seals, and the instruments for adjusting. These we want.

”We believe that he has them secreted here in New Orleans. The plan is that by your protestation of interest, affection or whatnot, you will induce him to place them in your hands for safekeeping. We are certain he has been furnished these things with help from Kansas City. Do you think you can do it?” I ended by asking suddenly.

”What will happen if I fail?” she surprised me by asking.

”If you fail and can show a clean slate, nothing unpleasant will happen,” I replied rather coldly, suggestive of what might happen if the reverse were true.

”_I--think_--I may be able to make some headway, but it may take more time than you antic.i.p.ate,” she warned me quietly.

”I don't care how much time you take, or how much expense, but it must be a continuous performance--nothing more than an intermission will be allowable. This telephone will be permanently connected with mine in the next room. If he wants you to drink, do so, and nothing containing alcohol will come to you, and though he is copper-lined, we will contrive to put him at a disadvantage and you can easily use the 'phone to ask for instructions when you are not sure.” Then contemplating her critically for a moment, I added--”You said you were willing to do _anything_.”

”I know I did--and I will--and I begin to feel safe--you will protect me, won't you?” she asked me with a delightful appeal in her eyes that could not be refused.

”Every precaution has been made for that--you will not be disturbed; the waiter who serves you is one of our men--but you must act, you must succeed. Becker is probably in his office now; call him up,” I added, giving his number.

There was no doubt about her eagerness and distinct intention to succeed, to do _anything_, but I could not decide whether she was moved by fear or a genuine desire to cooperate, get revenge, or to save Burrell.

Becker fell incontinently during the first round.

There was in every word a purr, a coo, an invitation--she a.s.sumed the att.i.tude of permitting him to come up, to see her for just a little while at the hotel.

Her low laugh of triumph was more of a chuckle as she turned to me for approbation.

”Fine--so far very good,” I commented as though the result was no more than expected and prepared to go into the other room and lock the door, where she did not know I could overhear every whisper that pa.s.sed, though she may have suspected something of the sort.

Becker's haste to get there was evidenced by the speed with which he came, and his entrance was Falstaffian. But the real Falstaff had no such intrigue arranged for him. He was not a criminal.

The meeting between Bascom and Becker lasted over six hours. The stenographers at the dictaphone in my room made over a hundred pages of evidence to be used at the trial.

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