"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.