“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.”