Copies of the receiver’s circulars and general orders found their way quickly to Maxwell, and the firm, strong hand of authority appeared in every line of them. How Sprague would go about it to break down the wall of possession which every hour was building higher and stronger, was a puzzle as yet unsolved; and it was not until the forenoon of the Wednesday that the various burrowings which the expert had set afoot began to yield results.
Tarbell brought the first of the results to the lobby of the Topaz at eleven o’clock on this third day in the shape of a note from Banker Kinzie. Hixon, the suing bauxite miner, had received his ten thousand dollars from somebody, and had deposited it in the bank.
Sprague passed the note to Maxwell, who came in just as Tarbell was leaving.
“That’s good news, in a way,” said the expert. “It tells us that the paymaster has begun to get busy. Any further word from Starbuck?”
“I saw him about half an hour ago. He says that Judge Watson’s condition remains the same, and Doctor Mangum makes no secret of the fact that he has ordered him to a lower altitude. I had another message from Ford this morning. He says we are dying by inches at the New York end, and the final smash may come at any minute.”
“We’ve got to have a little time,” was the quiet rejoinder. “The trap is baited and set, Dick, but we can’t very well spring it ourselves. Any word from Mr. Dimmock?”
“Not to me, no.”
Sprague’s smile was mirthless. “I haven’t escaped so easily,” he asserted. “Mr. Dimmock came over to my rooms this morning after breakfast and read me a carefully expurgated edition of the riot act. Translated into plain English, what he said was to the effect that my Government job wouldn’t be worth much to me if I meddled in this railroad jangle.”
“Then he knows you?”
“He knows of two or three things that I have done in the reasoning line, and—well, I’m inclined to think that he is a little nervous about something. He went so far as to hint that he had reason to believe that his mail had been tampered with.”