Part 15 (2/2)

”Just the thing!” declared Josie. ”I hate big rooms.”

He a.s.signed her to room 43 and after she had paid a week in advance a bellboy showed her to the tiny apartment and carried her suitcase.

”Number 45'll be vacant in a day or two,” remarked the boy, as he unlocked her door. ”Kauffman has it now, but he won't stay long. He's a suspender drummer and comes about every month--sometimes oftener--and always has 45. When he goes, I'll let you know, so you can speak for it. Forty-five is one of our best rooms.”

”Thank you,” said Josie, and tipped him a quarter.

As she opened her suitcase and settled herself in the room, she reflected on the meeting in Kasker's store which had led her to make this queer move.

”A fool for luck, they say,” she muttered. ”I wonder what intuition induced me to interview Jake Kasker. The clothing merchant isn't a bad fellow,” she continued to herself, looking over the notes she had made on her tablets. ”He didn't make a single disloyal speech. Hates the war, and I can't blame him for that, but wants to fight it to a finish.

Now, the other man--Kauffman--hates the war, too, but he did not make any remark that was especially objectionable; but that man's face betrayed more than his words, and some of his words puzzled me.

Kauffman said, at two different times, that the war would make him money. There's only one way a man like him can make money out of the war, and that is--by serving the Kaiser. I suppose he thought we wouldn't catch that idea, or he'd been more careful what he said. All criminals are reckless in little ways; that's how they betray themselves and give us a chance to catch them. However, I haven't caught this fellow yet, and he's tricky enough to give me a long chase unless I act boldly and get my evidence before he suspects I'm on his trail. That must be my programme--to act quickly and lose no time.”

Kauffman saw her when she entered the hotel dining room for dinner that evening, and he walked straight over to her table and sat down opposite her.

”Met again!” he said with his broad smile. ”You selling something?”

”Brains,” returned Josie composedly.

”Good! Did Jake Kasker buy any of you?”

”I've all my stock on hand, sir. I'm a newspaper woman--special writer or advertising expert. Quit New York last week and came on here.”

”Wasn't New York good enough for you?” he asked, after ordering his dinner of the waitress.

”I'm too independent to suit the metropolitan journals. I couldn't endorse their gumshoe policies. For instance, they wanted me to eulogize President Wilson and his cabinet, rave over the beauties of the war and denounce any congressman or private individual who dares think for himself,” explained Josie, eating her soup the while.

”So--I'm looking for another job.”

Kauffman maintained silence, studying the bill-of-fare. When he was served he busied himself eating, but between the slits of his half-closed eyes he regarded the girl furtively from, time to time. His talkative mood had curiously evaporated. He was thoughtful. Only when Josie was preparing to leave the table did he resume the conversation.

”What did you think of Jake Kasker's kind of patriotism?” he asked.

”Oh; the clothing man? I didn't pay much attention. Never met Kasker before, you know. Isn't he like most of the rabble, thinking what he's told to think and saying what he's told to say?”

She waited for a reply, but none was forthcoming. Even this clever lead did not get a rise out of Abe Kauffman. Indeed, he seemed to suspect a trap, for when she rose and walked out of the dining room she noticed that his smile had grown ironical.

On reaching her room through the dimly lighted pa.s.sage, Josie refrained from turning on her own lights, but she threw open her one little window and leaned out. The window faced a narrow, unlighted alley at the rear of the hotel. One window of Room 45, next to her, opened on an iron fire-escape that reached to within a few feet of the ground. Josie smiled, withdrew her head and sat in the dark of her room for hours, with a patience possible only through long training.

At ten o'clock Kauffman entered his room. She could distinctly hear him moving about. A little later he went away, walking boldly down the corridor to the elevator.

Josie rose and slipped on her hat and coat.

Leaving the hotel, Kauffman made his way down the street to Broadway, Dorfield's main thoroughfare. He wore a soft hat and carried a cane.

The few people he pa.s.sed paid no attention to him. Steadily proceeding, he left the business district and after a while turned abruptly to the right.

This was one of the princ.i.p.al residence sections of the city. Kauffman turned the various corners with a confidence that denoted his perfect acquaintance with the route. But presently his pace slowed and he came to a halt opposite an imposing mansion set far back in ample grounds, beautifully cared for and filled with rare shrubbery.

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