When I reached home just before daylight, Hiram, Jr., was fast asleep, but when I awakened later in the day he had gone.
I spent the greater part of the morning getting the five bales of waste paper that had been unloaded from Becker's boat on the steamship docks, into a private fireproof room in the storage warehouse where we had our barrel of "steel filings" stored, and secured an affidavit from the steamship company that they were received from Becker & Co.
When I found leisure to examine them, I drew samples from each bale and carefully estimated the number, finding they checked up with the amount of filled sausage cartons stolen from the car.
Before leaving the warehouse I had our barrel put into the same room and secured it with a special Government padlock. Recent correspondence had developed that it contained a very rare German aniline dye, which American manufacturers had as yet been unable to produce, and offers for it had risen to such a fabulous sum I was afraid to tell Hiram about it for the present.
When I reached my office, my clerk, Miss Bascom, was out to luncheon, but I had not been there long before Superintendent Kitchell came in and formally introduced Mr. Hiram Strong, Sr., whom he had mentioned as being in transit over the system in his private car, and asked me to extend any possible courtesy, after which he bowed himself out obsequiously.
I knew I was in the presence of a man. He was tall and his full chest and very broad shoulders impressed me as they had impressed Hiram. His hair was iron gray and his very hat seemed to be made to order for him. His eyes appeared to penetrate without effort the object on which they turned, and one knew instinctively that he could and would note any discrepancy between what a person thought and what he uttered.
I saw at once how Hiram, Jr., had come by his nose piece, also his fine, clear skin and chiseled mouth.
Superintendent Kitchell, contrary to his boast, had told him all he knew about Hiram, Jr. He did not seem to want to hear more from me, but did want some information about getting down the river to the Hunting Club, where he was going to shoot ducks.
"I left New York supposing I could dispense with my secretary for a few weeks anyhow, but in that I am disappointed. Would it be too much trouble to obtain a stenographer to write some letters for me?"
Hiram Strong, Sr., like his son, was one to whom anything within reason could not be refused.