“About Mr. Bigelow?”
“Yes. Please tell me just what you think, and why you think so. You understand that I couldn't go on with this without pretty good authority behind me.”
“I have no documentary proof, if that's what you mean. But to my notion, that isn't necessary.” And Halloran simply repeated his former statements.
“Tell me again about this Le Duc—what is his relationship to Mr. Bigelow?”
“I may as well give you the whole story, Mr. Corrigan. The daughter of our Captain Craig went to Chicago some twenty years ago as Bigelow's private secretary. They were married and had two children, and then they were divorced. The courts allowed Mrs. Bigelow a decent income by way of alimony, most of which was never paid, and in some letters Bigelow admitted that it was unpaid. A little while ago, Le Duc, a fellow I had known in college, who had drifted on the stage and was rather up against it, married the daughter, Elizabeth Bigelow. They were all poor—Mrs. Bigelow (or Mrs. Craig, as she is now known) was really in want—and finally Le Duc got the letters from her and went out one evening to Evanston to demand money from Bigelow. Instead of giving it to him, Bigelow bought him off by offering him a position as the nominal head of the corner he was contemplating on the Board. Le Duc accepted, kept the letters, and cast off Mrs. Craig, who is now living here in Wauchung with her father. Just before I saw you he told me himself that Bigelow was the man behind him in his operations. That's the story.”
“Well—well,” observed Corrigan, with a distressed expression.
“And in telling it to you, I'm assuming that you don't want a Board of Trade plunger at the head of your combination.”
“No, no, of course we don't. Now, Mr. Halloran, what is it exactly that you have to suggest?”
“Say to Mr. Bigelow at your meeting that you have been told that he is behind the corner and request an explanation.”
“Yes?”