HIRAM suggested that he and the captain would get the motor out on the
floor and test it in order to make sure that another crooked
revolutionist had not met a crooked manufacturer.
While they were doing this I went to my office to get a better line on
the traffic between that very interesting trio--Becker, Burrell and my
clerk, Miss Bascom.
Captain Marianna helped Hiram, so they soon had the motor on skids, and
'phoned me to come down and try it out. The working test was
satisfactory and after computing its horsepower, we decided it would
drive the boat, and, possibly, at a fair speed. Before leaving the
warehouse Hiram called my attention to a small portable sawmill outfit.
"If this works out, that's mine, too," he whispered, evidently still
clinging to the idea of capturing logs in the river.
Hiram was right, nothing like the hull of the _Fearsome_ had ever been
produced before. A hundred and fifty feet long, and over thirty foot
beam, and with a bulwark not more than a foot high about the entire
outside. It looked like an immense skimming dish. Hiram thought it came
from the canals of Mars, possibly a cup challenger there. Captain
Marianna assured us, though she didn't look it now, she was very sturdy
and seaworthy and she did not leak even a little since he had been on
her. No doubt it had previously had gasoline power in it, for there were
left intact the foundation beams. Hiram said that the captain, now
penniless and almost starving, if given some cash and a good job, would
likely be distinctly different from now on. I told him I thought the
fellow was a fair bet, and left them at work getting the motor ready to
move on board. The captain assured me the sale was to take place at nine
the next morning. No one had been around to see it and I felt sure it
would go for very little.
As I was up all night I did not see Hiram until the next morning. The
sale looked as though it had been arranged for our benefit. The officer
said the claims were nearly a thousand dollars, sold it promptly for
that bid, got away as though in a hurry, and I attended to the details,
leaving Hiram serious but jubilant.
It was late that night when he returned, tired and hungry but
enthusiastic. He took little interest in a letter awaiting him until he
told me all about his progress in moving the motor and getting it aboard
the boat.
"We got the motor aboard late this evening and it fits as if made for
the foundation beams, and it will connect with the propeller shaft and
clutch with little trouble. But, say, the captain says we must have an
air compressor for the whistle and an auxiliary gasoline tank,--and,
say," he continued, while stripping down to wash--"I believe the captain
is going to prove a jewel--he's all right."
"You still think him reliable?"
"Well, if he is as loyal to us as he was to his old employers he will be
all right--and willing to turn his hand to anything."
"Did you see the letter that came for you?"
"Yes, I'm going to read it in a minute--it's nothing, for I don't know
any one who would write to me. I've got something more important to do
now than keeping up a line of correspondence," he said, as he finished
his ablutions and buttoned his flannel shirt at the collar. Then he
reached for the letter and as he opened it his face changed to
astonished resentment.
"Say, who the devil can it be that is writing me these notes? This is
the second one I have received, not dated or signed by any one. I don't
understand this one at all," he added, handing it to me.
I took it and read from the same yellow paper and typed as the last one
had been:
"Becker & Co. know of the Railroad's plan to ship slaughtered
cattle from Illinois to their plant."
His astonishment was no greater than mine, for instantly I knew that
only some one connected with the railroad and telegraph could learn
anything regarding Superintendent Kitchell's plan. I also recalled that
I had not mentioned anything about the plan to Hiram, or any other
important thing concerning the case. I wanted him to move uninfluenced
by anything I knew or suspected.
After examining the note critically a few moments, I said:
"Hiram, these notes may come from a woman--they have such earmarks. Do
you know--have you anything to do with a woman?" I asked, really alarmed
at the moment, and scrutinizing him closely.
Hiram stood straight before me and looked me square in the eye with
magnificent candor.
"Ben, I have scarcely a speaking acquaintance with any woman in New
Orleans except Anna Bell Morgan--and I have not seen her or communicated
with her since--well, you know how long--ever since this damned thing
came up like a black fog from Hades, out of which it seems impossible to
get--and----"
"The plan of getting into Becker's plant is yours. I mentioned it to
Superintendent Kitchell. Getting some slaughtered tubercular cattle from
Illinois is Kitchell's idea. He wired or wrote, or both, from his office
and this is the result. Somebody inside, sure--somebody for them and
somebody for you--who is it, Hiram?" I ended by demanding of him to
speak only the truth.
"I haven't mentioned one word to a soul other than you," he stoutly
insisted, his face as open as a printed page.
"Have you mentioned your boat scheme to any one?" I asked, fearful of
the incaution of youth.
"Not a person knows of it from me but you and Captain Marianna, and he
doesn't know much yet. But this is absolute evidence our finger is on
the right spot," he observed shrewdly, then added, less
confidently--"they must have some organization."
"Go ahead, Hiram, I still think your boat scheme a very good one, but be
very discreet and see if you can think of any one who would send these
notes to you," I added darkly, much puzzled and annoyed.
"He is building and must have lumber--he'll fall for some cheap stuff
and the river is full of logs--and it's perfectly feasible to saw
them----"
"Maybe so, Hiram--provided he doesn't keep on knowing what we have for
breakfast. I will learn more in a day or two--go ahead as fast as you
can about getting ready, but again I ask you to have an interrogation
point in front of you all the time."
"Ben"--he began, walking about the room nervously, as though he felt his
soul in danger--righteously angered, but as one who showed real
bigness--"I am convinced that they have power enough, so that when they
get ready they can for a time make me the goat. I was in sole charge of
that wharf when the big thefts were pulled off; what would be easier
than to link me up with some poor teamster and send the two of us to
slaughter, and even by arrest plant an imputation that could be cited
against me all my life? I could take this Becker and tear his purple
tallow person into bits with my bare hands and throw the pieces into his
own rendering tanks with pleasure!" he shouted, and he looked as though
he could do it.
"Yes, Hiram, that possibility is present, but perhaps you magnify it."
Then believing his efficiency would be augmented by a little less fear,
I told him, for the first time, that the provision market was flooded
with spurious goods bearing a genuine government stamp as having been
inspected and passed, and that on this night I was going with a Federal
party in a move against Becker for that.
"What are you going to do?" he asked quickly.
"Locate him as soon as he leaves his New Orleans office, then a safe
expert, employed by the government in alien-enemy work, will open his
safe for evidence, and possibly will find the stolen seals, stamps, and
ink of the Department of Animal Industry."
"I have figured the case in just that way and supposed you had, and that
is why we must get inside his plant. Opening his safe may help--finding
the seals don't prove the larceny--suppose they should secrete those
seals about the wharf, or worse still, put them inside, or under my
desk, in the wharf office, what chance would I have to escape the
implication?" he asked, still walking about the room looking at the
floor.
"A dog having the bone will not prove he stole the ham," I suggested.
"But that won't save the dog's ribs when he's found with it," he
retorted, relaxing.
"It is true, Hiram, their organization must begin in Kansas City--and is
pretty well oiled--but perhaps not as efficient as you imagine; crooks
always forget something with a certainty that suggests fatality."
"Let us hope so. But these notes--what makes you think they are from a
woman?" He stopped and looked squarely at me. "I don't like it," he
finished with a snap of his jaws.
"My reason just now is scarcely more than an impression, hardly more
than 'because,'" I replied.