“Here’s a young feller, Mr. Peters, who says he’s looking for Mr. Krutzmacht,” the girl said.
“Mr. Krutzmacht is not in the city,” the man said nervously.
“Yes, I know that!” Brainard replied easily. “You see I was sent here by Mr. Krutzmacht himself.”
“You come from Krutzmacht!” the man gasped in excitement, while the woman’s face expressed incredulity. “Where is he? We’ve been telegraphing all over the country the last week trying to locate him. Mr. Snell has just gone east—left this office only an hour ago—to see if he can find him.”
Brainard reflected that the Overland Limited had probably served him a good turn by being late; for he judged that the fewer persons he had to deal with in the present emergency the easier it would be for him to accomplish his purposes. This mild-mannered, flustered clerk did not look formidable. His tones gained confidence.
“Mr. Krutzmacht,” Brainard explained glibly, “has met with an accident—not a serious one, I hope. He is in good hands. He has sent me out here to get some papers that he wants from his safe.”
“But, but,” the bewildered clerk stammered, “don’t you know that the court—”
“They’ve fixed up a receivership, I know,” Brainard interrupted, “that’s the reason perhaps—”
“I’ve been expecting ’em in here all the afternoon,” the clerk said nervously, looking at the door. “Then there’ll be the devil to pay generally.”
“All the better!” Brainard exclaimed. “Let’s get busy before they arrive.”