Part 29 (1/2)
”You told young Robinson as much?”
”He hired me to tell him everything.”
”Exactly. How much do you expect to tell him of what is going on to-day?”
”Nothing that you do not instruct,” said Tuttle, still feeling insecure. ”That is, if you meant what you said.”
”I meant it,” said Garrison, ”meant it all. You're at work for me from this time on--and I expect the faithfulness of an honest man, no matter what you may have been before.”
”You'll get it,” said Tuttle. ”I only want a show to start off square and right. . . . What do you want me to do?”
”There is nothing of great importance just at present, except to remember who is your boss,” answered Garrison. ”You may be obliged to double-cross Robinson to a slight extent, when he next hunts you up for your report. He deserves a little of the game, no matter how he gets it. Take his instructions the same as before. Tell him you have lost me for a time. Report to me promptly concerning his instructions and everything else. Do you know the address of my office?”
”You have never been there since I was put on the case,” said Tuttle with commendable candor.
”All right,” said Garrison. ”It's down in the----”
A knock on the door interrupted. The landlady, a middle-aged woman who rarely appeared at Garrison's room, was standing on the landing when he went to investigate, and holding a message in her hand.
”A telegram for you,” she said, and halting for a moment, she turned and retreated down the stairs.
Garrison tore the envelope apart, pulled out the yellow slip and read:
Please come over to 937 Hackatack Street, Jersey City, as soon as possible.
JERALDINE.
It was Dorothy, across the Hudson. A wave of relief, to know she was near and wished to see him, swept over Garrison's being.
”Here,” he said to Tuttle, ”here's the address on a card. Report to me there at six o'clock to-night. Get out now and go to young Robinson, but not at the house in Ninety-third Street.”
”Why not?” inquired Tuttle. ”Its the regular place----”
”I've ordered him not to enter the house again,” interrupted Garrison.
”By the way, should he attempt to do so, or ask you to get in there for him, agree to his instructions apparently, and let me know without delay.”
”Thank you for giving me a chance,” said Tuttle, who had risen from his chair. ”You'll never regret it, I'm sure.”
”All right,” said Garrison. ”Shake!”
He gave the astonished man a firm, friendly grip and bade him ”So 'long!” at the door.
A few minutes later, dressed in his freshest apparel, he hastened out to gulp down a cup of strong coffee at an adjacent cafe, then headed downtown for the ferry.
CHAPTER XXII
A MAN IN THE CASE
The hour was just after four o'clock when Garrison stepped from a cab in Hackatack Street, Jersey City, and stood for a moment looking at the red-brick building numbered 937.