Part 19 (2/2)
”Where's Ward?” several voices demanded. ”Where's Lester Ward?”
At the same time a forward movement of the crowd threatened to sweep the interposing figure off the threshold. Britz, who had elbowed his way to the door, pinned his s.h.i.+eld to his lapel, and, facing the excited men and women, exclaimed:
”I am a police officer.”
”Then why in h.e.l.l don't you arrest Lester Ward?” cried someone near the opposite wall.
”If the facts warrant it, he will be arrested,” answered Britz. ”Your interests will be protected and you are only wasting your time remaining here.”
As abruptly as he had faced them, Britz now swung around and entered the office, locking the door behind him.
”What's the trouble?” he inquired.
”I have been appointed receiver by the United States District Court,”
answered the man who had addressed the crowd from the half-open door.
”An involuntary pet.i.tion in bankruptcy has been filed against Ward & Co.
It looks to me like an awful failure.”
Britz's eyes traveled about the office in search of Ward. But the head of the firm was not to be seen. Instead, the detective saw a score of clerks, bookkeepers and tellers seated gloomily at their desks, gazing at one another in appalled silence.
The tragedy of the failure was written in their faces. These men, grown old in the employ of this seemingly solid establishment, suddenly found themselves confronted anew with the problem of earning a livelihood.
Nearly all of them had pa.s.sed into that enfeebled state that comes with years of unvarying routine. Each seemed to realize the almost utter hopelessness of obtaining new employment, and several of them were weeping silently.
Even Britz was moved by this pitiful picture of despairing old age. The mute suffering of these men was a hundredfold more distressing than the wild, helpless clamoring of the horde of enraged creditors. A person born and bred to poverty soon grows insensible to deprivation; for when one is accustomed to little, a little less doesn't matter. But these men had occupied comfortable homes all their lives. From their sons and daughters the colleges and universities recruit the majority of their students. In a small way they have learned to enjoy the good things in life. To be cut off suddenly, to learn that the rod on which they have been leaning for so many years is but a broken reed--it is such men who feel most acutely the bitter poverty of old age.
Britz contemplated the scene about him with a feeling of growing depression. Then, suddenly recalling the high hopes which he had based on his expected meeting with Ward, he asked:
”Has Ward been here to-day?”
”No,” replied the receiver. ”He seems to have abandoned the office. I've been unable to reach him at his home.”
”Well, fortunately I've had one of my men trailing him since the day of the Whitmore murder, so it is unlikely he will get away,” said Britz.
”Have you any idea at all as to the condition of the business?”
”Nothing except what I have gathered from questioning the manager of the office. I didn't learn much from him but his att.i.tude indicated to me that the business is a complete wreck. South American enterprises seem to have swallowed up all the resources.”
”Has the failure any criminal aspect?” asked Britz.
”Of course, I can't tell as yet,” answered the receiver. ”But these cases seldom result in criminal prosecutions. A man like Ward undoubtedly was advised by shrewd lawyers and the chances are that we'll find he's kept just within the law.”
Just then the unceasing murmur in the hall swelled into a chorus of profanity in which cries of ”What's your hurry?” ”You can't get in!”
intermingled. Next, a violent pounding on the door announced the presence of someone more determined than the others to gain admittance.
Britz opened the door and a tall, stockily built individual forced an entrance with an authoritative shove of his elbow.
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