"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.