Part 18 (1/2)

”Now,” said Josie, surveying her work with satisfaction, ”if they light that fuse, and expect it to explode the bomb in an hour or more, they'll be badly fooled. Also, I shall have prevented another catastrophe like the explosion at the airplane factory.”

She replaced the bomb in its bag, placed the bag in the black satchel, tucked in the soiled s.h.i.+rts to cover it and with her improvised key managed to relock the satchel. Watching for a time when the corridor was vacant, she went to 45, entered the room and replaced the satchel on its shelf, taking care to arrange the newspaper before it as a mask.

She had taken the chair from the closet and was about to leave the room when she heard footsteps coming down the hallway, accompanied by a whistle which she promptly recognized.

”Caught!” she exclaimed, and gave a hurried glance around her. To hide within the room was impossible, but the window was open and the iron fire-escape within easy reach. In an instant she had mounted it and seizing the rounds of the iron ladder climbed upward until she had nearly reached the next window directly above, on the third floor. Then she paused, clinging, to get her breath.

Kauffman was annoyed to find the door of his room unlocked. He paused a moment in the middle of the room and looked around him. ”Confound that chambermaid!” Josie heard him mutter, and then he opened the closet door and looked in. Apparently rea.s.sured, he approached the open window, stuck out his head and looked _down_ the fire-escape. Josie's heart gave a bound; but Kauffman didn't look upward. He drew in his head, resumed his whistling and busied himself repacking the sample suspenders in his suitcase.

Josie hoped he would soon go out again, but he seemed to have no intention of doing so. So she climbed her ladder until she could look into the window above, which was also open. The old lady she had seen at breakfast was lying upon the bed, her eyes closed. Josie wondered if she was asleep. The door leading from the room to the hallway also stood open. The weather was warm, and the old lady evidently wanted plenty of air.

While Josie hesitated what to do a boy came up the alley, noticed her on the fire-escape and paused to look at her in astonishment. The girl couldn't blame him for being interested, for her att.i.tude was certainly extraordinary. Others were likely to discover her, too, and might suspect her of burglary and raise a hue and cry. So she deliberately entered the room, tiptoed across to the hall and escaped without arousing the old lady. But it was a desperate chance and she breathed easier when she had found the stairs and descended to her own floor.

Safe in her own room she gave a little laugh at her recent predicament and then sat down to note her latest discoveries on her tablets.

Josie O'Gorman was very particular in this regard. Details seemingly of trifling moment but which may prove important are likely to escape one's memory. Her habit was to note every point of progress in a case and often review every point from the beginning, fitting them into their proper places and giving each its due importance. A digest of such information enabled her to proceed to the next logical step in her investigation.

”These items all dovetail very nicely,” she decided, with a satisfied nod at the quaint characters on the tablets--which all the world might read and be no wiser. ”I must, however, satisfy myself that Tom Linnet actually printed those circulars. The evidence at hand indicates that he did, but I want positive proof. Also, I'd like to know which one of the gang employed him--and paid him so liberally. However, that suggestion opens up a new line of conjecture; I don't believe Tom Linnet got all his wealth merely for printing a few circulars, helping to address them, and keeping his mouth shut. But--what else has he been paid for?”

She brooded on this for a while and then determined to take one thing at a time and follow it to a conclusion. So she once more quitted her room and descended by the elevator--openly, this time--to the office.

It was now noon and the hotel office was filled with guests, and the clerks and bellboys were all busily occupied. Josie wandered carelessly around until she found the stairway leading to the bas.e.m.e.nt. Watching her opportunity she slipped down the stairs.

The bas.e.m.e.nt was not as barren as she expected to find it. There was an open central s.p.a.ce, on one side of which were rooms for the barber shop, baths, and a pool room, all more or less occupied by guests and attendants. On the opposite side, at the rear, were baggage and storerooms. Just beside her she noted a boot-black's stand, where a colored boy listlessly waited for customers.

”s.h.i.+ne, miss?” he inquired.

”No,” said Josie in a businesslike tone; ”I'm looking for the printing office.”

”Secon' door, miss,” indicating it with a gesture; ”but dey ain't n.o.body dere. De room's mos'ly kep' locked.”

”I know,” said Josie, and advancing to the door drew out her keys.

Her very boldness disarmed suspicion; the boy was not sufficiently interested to watch her, for a man came out of the barber-shop and seated himself in the boot-black's chair.

This sort of lock didn't phase Josie at all. At the second trial she opened the door, walked in and closed the door behind her.

It was a small room, dimly lighted and very disorderly. Sc.r.a.ps of paper were strewn around the floor. Dust had settled on the ink-rollers of the foot-press. A single case of type stood on a rack and the form of a bill-of-fare--partly ”pied”--was on a marble slab which formed the top of a small table. On an upturned soap-box was a pile of unprinted menu cards. Josie noted a few cans of ink, a bottle of benzine, and a few printing tools lying carelessly about, but the room contained nothing more.

Having ”sized up” Tom Linnet's printing room with one swift glance, the girl stooped down and began searching among the sc.r.a.ps that littered the floor. They were mostly torn bits of cardboard or crumpled papers on which trial impressions had been made.

Josie expected momentarily to be interrupted, so she conducted her search as rapidly as was consistent with thoroughness. She paid no attention to the card sc.r.a.ps but all papers she smoothed out, one by one. Finally, with a little cry of triumph, she thrust one of these into her handbag. She made this discovery just back of the press, and glancing up, she noted a hook that had formerly been hidden from her view, on which were impaled a number of papers--the chef's ”copy” from which various bills had been printed. Running through these papers she suddenly paused, pulled one away from the hook and tucked it into her bag.

She was fairly satisfied, now, but still continued her search amongst the litter. It was not easy to decipher writing or printing in that dim light, but her eyes were good and the longer she remained in the room the more distinctly she saw. There was an electric globe suspended over the press, but she dared not turn on the light for fear of attracting attention. Several sc.r.a.ps on which writing appeared she secured without trying to read them, but presently she decided she had made as thorough an examination of the place as was necessary.

She left the room, locked the door again and boldly mounted the stairs to the office, meeting and pa.s.sing several men who scarcely noticed her. Then she took the elevator to her room and washed her grimy hands and prepared for luncheon.

At the table she slipped another of the printed bills into her bag, to use for comparison, and afterward ate her lunch as calmly as if she were not inwardly elated at the success of her morning's work. Josie felt, indeed, that she had secured the proof necessary to confound the traitors and bring them to the bar of justice. But there might be other interesting developments; her trap was still set. ”There's no hurry,”

she told herself. ”Let's see this thing through--to the end.”