A MEAN PLOT
The farmer chuckled at his joke, as he passed into the apartments of
Mr. Boise, whence, presently, his voice could be heard discussing his
case.
“I wouldn’t care for many clients like him,” thought Tom, “though he
meant well enough. I’d have to explain too much to them.”
He resumed his perusal of the law book, until a drop of one of the
black disks told him some one from outside wished to talk to a member
of the firm. The call was for Mr. Cutler, and, when he had made the
connection Tom threw up the cam, so that he could not hear what was
being said.
For, several times of late, the junior partner had accused the
telephone boy of listening to the conversations that went on over the
wire.
“I’ll not give him a chance this time,” thought Tom.
A little later he received a call from the central girl operator. One
of the trunk lines did not work just right, and the girl wanted Tom to
test it, before a man was sent out to repair it. The young lady was a
pleasant-voiced one, and, before he knew it, Tom was exchanging a few
jokes with her.
She suggested how he himself might get the wire to work better, by
making a little adjustment to the switchboard, and he did so.
“How’s that?” he asked. “Can you hear me any better?”
“Much better,” she replied. “You ought to go into the telephone
business.”
Then, whether it was something he unconsciously did to the switchboard,
or whether the central operator made some unusual connection, Tom never
knew. At any rate he found he was “cut in” on the wire over which Mr.
Cutler was talking.
And, as Tom listened for a moment, not meaning to, he became aware that
the man on the other end of the wire was Barton Sandow. And what he
said was this:
“I’m almost ready to do the trick now. I have the papers safe.”
Then there came a buzzing on the wire, and Tom heard no more, but he
had listened to enough to understand that whatever game there was
between Sandow and the junior partner was still being carried on.
“I want to test that other wire,” came the voice of the central girl,
a moment later, and Tom, at her request “gave her a ring,” that is,
he depressed the button which flashed a tiny electric light on the
switchboard at which she sat in the distant central office.
“That’s all right,” she announced. “Good-by.”
“I believe I’d like to meet that girl,” thought Tom. “If it wasn’t
against the rules for her to talk to me, except on business, I’d ask
her name. I’ve almost a good notion to do it anyhow. But I don’t want
to get her into trouble. I must ask Charley Grove what would happen in
case a supervisor overheard her talking to me just for fun.”
He was interrupted in his pleasant thoughts by the necessity of
disconnecting Mr. Cutler’s ’phone, as the drop of a disk indicated that
the lawyer was through talking. Then a door opened and Mr. Boise and
Mr. Kendall came out into the main office.
“Wa’al, I’ll do jest as you say, of course, Mr. Boise,” the farmer was
saying, in his loud voice. “If you think it’s best to let my neighbor
Simpson start to tear out that dam, an’ then git an injunction, I’m
willin’ to do it. Only I’d stop him with a gun, if I had my way.”
“No; if you leave the matter in our hands, you must do as we say,”
insisted Mr. Boise. “But don’t let it be known that you are going to
let him start to destroy the dam that holds back the water. In fact
don’t mention it anywhere. I’d rather you wouldn’t have spoken of it
here, as you never know who will hear what you will say, and, if this
got out, it might lose you your case.”
“Is that so? I didn’t mean to speak so loud. But I guess your telephone
boy won’t tell, will he?”
“Oh, no,” answered Mr. Boise with a smile. “We trust Tom, but it’s best
to be on the safe side.”
Tom was grateful for this mark of confidence. As he turned in his
chair, to pick up his bookmark that had fallen to the floor, he caught
sight of Mr. Cutler’s door. It was partly open and the lawyer was
peering out, looking at the farmer and Mr. Boise. As he saw Tom’s eyes
turned toward him, the junior partner quickly closed the portal.
“He was listening,” thought Tom. “I’m getting more and more suspicious
of him every day. Yet, perhaps, I have no right to be.”
But if Tom could have overheard what was said between the young lawyer
and Barton Sandow that night, when the two met in a certain cafe
near Scollay Square he would have had more cause than ever for his
suspicions.
“Do you think it will work?” Sandow asked, after the two had conversed
at some length.
“It’s bound to. I’ll telephone when Tom is out at lunch. One of the
clerks is left in charge, and I can easily get rid of him for a few
minutes, on some excuse.”
“But can you imitate his voice?”
“Whose? Tom’s? Oh, well enough. Kittridge, the lawyer who has the
other side of the Kendall case, doesn’t know my voice, and he doesn’t
know Tom in the least. I’ll pretend I’m the office boy, and that I
have a grudge against the firm, because they won’t raise my wages.
All Kittridge needs is a tip about the dam, and he can win the case.
Kendall will lose it, and then I’ll casually suggest to Boise that
there must have been a leak somewhere. There’ll be an inquiry, and Tom
will be discharged. Then we can proceed without having him sneaking in
on us, at every chance he gets.”
“Yes, it will be easier with him out of the way. The old doctor has
taken quite a notion to him. But he’s so forgetful everything ought to
be easy.”
“Did you bring the papers?”
“Yes; here they are. He left them in his study under a book, but,
as there are five hundred books there he’ll have a task to remember
under which one they were put. He can’t remember, and, before he can
do anything to protect himself, the property will be disposed of, and
you’ll have your share.”
“Not so loud,” cautioned Elias Cutler, looking around apprehensively.
“Some one might hear you.”
“Why, you’re not afraid, are you?”
“No--not exactly, as everything is safe, but be careful, Barton.”
“If we get rid of Tom Baldwin we’ll have nothing more to fear, as
neither Boise nor Keen suspect that we have anything to do with each
other; do they?” asked Mr. Sandow.
“Not in the least. If they did--well, I know I’d be looking for another
position.”
The two conversed for some time further, and then prepared to separate.
“When will you work the trick?” asked Mr. Sandow.
“As soon as possible. To-morrow, if I get a chance.”
It was several days after this that, one afternoon, Mr. Boise came into
the office from the court house, where he had been all day, trying a
case.
“What’s the matter?” inquired Mr. Keen, of his partner. “You look
annoyed.”
“And I have good cause to be,” replied the lawyer. “I lost the Kendall
case.”
“What! That one where the old farmer was mixed up in some action over
water-rights and a dam?”
“That’s it. I had a good case, and we were going to apply for an
injunction as soon as Simpson, who is the party Kendall had the
dispute with, started to cut the dam. But, it seems Simpson’s lawyer,
Amos Kittridge, got wind of the affair. He knew what we were going to
do, and he took action that caused our case to be thrown out of court.
My client, Mr. Kendall lost, and he is very angry about it.”
“How do you suppose Kittridge learned of your side of the case?” asked
Mr. Keen, while Tom listened anxiously.
“I don’t know. He’s a trickster, but when he won he laughed at me, and
as much as hinted that the leak came from this office.”
“From this office?”
“Yes. He advised me to pay my help better, then they wouldn’t be
dissatisfied, and give away the details of our cases. I tell you,
Mr. Keen, this is a serious matter, and I am going to have an
investigation. I want to see all the clerks in my office. Some news
went out of here that shouldn’t have gone, and it lost us the case. It
was given over the telephone, Kittridge as much as said. Tom, I shall
have to question you. Do not go home this afternoon, until I have seen
you. Kittridge is a trickster, and a sneak, but what he did is legal,
though it is not right. But if I find out who gave him the tip, it will
go hard with him!”
Mr. Boise looked sterner than Tom had ever seen him before, and the
telephone boy, though he knew he had had nothing to do with the matter,
felt a little apprehensive.
“If some one used this telephone to talk to Mr. Kittridge with,” mused
Tom, “it may involve me.”