"I am waiting to hear why you propose to resign," I insisted, ignoring his complimentary terms as directed toward me.
"I'll make that short enough—as long as I stay at work there I don't have time or ginger to do anything else. I believe that Becker is the head of the stealing—I have got several tips lately and I believe he's the man. Several train-men, who learned I was in trouble, informed me that his place up the river is queer. In ordinary water it is an island, between the track and the river, the switch running to it over piles, and several times when they rode cars into his unloading doors they have seen things they believe will bear investigation. But it's going to be hard to get into the old fox's place. He receives by rail from here and the north, too, but ships out everything by an old boat on the river."
"Now"—hesitated Hiram shrewdly—"that car of sausage that was short the other night sat on track One—exactly opposite two cars that were loaded for him on track Two. The space between cars on those two tracks is so narrow that I was nearly killed one day between them; the time between the arrival of the sausage car and the departure of his cars was only a little more than half an hour, but it was between 2:30 and 3:30 a. m., when no one was there, and I believe the transfer was made in that time—do you follow me?"
"Yes—go ahead. But what about the three seals being intact when you opened the car?"
"I knew you would ask that—but I believe, with help from those 'higher up,' and the seals could be had—stolen of course. There are two hard nuts to crack; one is the seals, and the other is to get into his place—and that's where you must help."
"Now here is another funny thing." Hiram hesitated to bring from his hip pocket an envelope. "Some one who knew my full name sent this to me, care of the office," and he read from a typewritten slip of paper,
"Why does Becker & Co. get freight by rail and ship out only by water?"
I stopped in front of him and reached for the slip to examine it critically.