When I reached the hotel I had no trouble in finding Hiram Strong, Sr., the Gold-Beater, in a forest of millinery and subdued lights of the hotel dining-room. He was the most prominent figure in the big room, and sitting opposite him was my clerk, Miss Bascom.
He was not a victim or an intended one—a lion who, with playful stroke, could crush the beautiful flower in front of him. His lids would narrow occasionally with intense interest or curiosity. I could not get close enough to hear what was said, but she was quite voluble. I had no immediate interest in him; he was fully able to care for himself, but my interest in her was intensified. It seemed to me that I could see on her beautiful shoulders, now bared in dinner garb, the mark of the huge, pudgy, filthy hand of Becker, in gross caress. The brand of suspicion was upon her the moment she had come into contact with him, when he pressed her to his vile self, and her lips were violated by contact with his lumpy, purple, filthy mouth as he kissed her. Could her ears ever be maidenly again after listening to his vile proposals?
I was not at all sure of her relations with Chief Clerk Burrell, but I felt sure there was an understanding; nor could I account for her anonymous notes to Hiram, Jr. But here she sat comfortably dining with his father after six or eight hours' acquaintance, all of which was most disconcerting.
Truly a remarkable young woman, whatever her impelling motive, was my thought. I felt that the time was fast approaching when I could compel her to hold up her last page for me to read.
At a reasonable hour the Gold-Beater put her into a cab and sent her home. I hurried back to our rooms expecting to hear from Hiram, Jr. His mission was most difficult and important—would he be successful?
There was no mistaking his bounding step on the stairs, some time after eleven, and I was not surprised when he grabbed my foot and dragged me from the bed where I was dozing.
"Get up, Ben; I've got it—the Swede was a hard nut to crack, but I made him open up—I've got a whole barrel full downstairs.—It's the stuff we want, all right—come on and see it!" he exclaimed, greatly excited, but suppressing himself with discretion.
"Are you sure?" I asked, barely awake.
"Of course, I'm sure—come on down and see it—I wouldn't take his word for anything. I made him open up before he lowered it into my boat. He tried to play innocent—jockeyed for some time, but I finally showed him the copy of his letter and flatly told him, 'No sample, no sail, also jail and his ship interned.' A half barrel of that stuff is heavy and I had the devil of a time getting it out of the boat onto the levee. Then I got hold of Billy Swope's taxi—he's safe—I've known him about the docks for a long time. Where are we going to put it at this time of night? Come on—wake up—you act as if you'd been taking dope," he hissed, coming threateningly toward me, playful but intensely excited.