“Well, Mr. Hardwick,” interrupted another voice—the owner of which was either standing still or sitting in a chair, so far as Miss Baxter could judge by the tone, while the editor uneasily paced to and fro—“what Hazel is afraid of is that when this blows over he will lose his situation—”
“But,” interjected the editor, “no one can be sure that he gave the information. No one knows anything about this but you and I, and we will certainly keep our mouths shut.”
“What Hazel fears is that the moment we print the account, the Board of Public Construction will know he gave away the figures, because of their accuracy. He says that if we permit him to make one or two blunders, which will not matter in the least in so far as the general account goes, it will turn suspicion from him. It will be supposed that someone had access to the books, and in the hurry of transcribing figures had made the blunders, which they know he would not do, for he has a reputation for accuracy.”
“Quite so,” said the editor; “and it is just that reputation—for accuracy—that I want to gain for the Daily Bugle. Don’t you think the truth of it is that the man wants more money?”
“Who? Hazel?”
“Certainly. Does he imagine that he could get more than fifty pounds elsewhere?”
“Oh, no; I’m sure the money doesn’t come into the matter at all. Of course he wants the fifty pounds, but he doesn’t want to lose his situation on the Board of Public Construction in the getting of it.”
“Where do you meet this man, at his own house, or in his office at the Board?”
“Oh, in his own house, of course.”
“You haven’t seen the books, then?”
“No; but he has the accounts all made out, tabulated beautifully, and has written a very clear statement of the whole transaction. You understand, of course, that there has been no defalcation, no embezzlement, or anything of that sort. The accounts as a whole balance perfectly, and there isn’t a penny of the public funds wrongly appropriated. All the Board has done is to juggle with figures so that each department seems to have come out all right, whereas the truth is that some departments have been carried on at a great profit, while with others there has been a loss. The object obviously has been to deceive the public and make it think that all the departments are economically conducted.”
“I am sorry money hasn’t been stolen,” said the editor generously, “then we would have had them on the hip; but, even as it is, the Bugle will make a great sensation. What I fear is that the opposition press will seize on those very inaccuracies, and thus try to throw doubt on the whole affair. Don’t you think that you can persuade this person to let us have the information intact, without the inclusion of those blunders he seems to insist on? I wouldn’t mind paying him a little more money, if that is what he is after.”
“I don’t think that is his object. The truth is, the man is frightened, and grows more and more so as the day for publication approaches. He is so anxious about his position that he insisted he was not to be paid by cheque, but that I should collect the money and hand it over to him in sovereigns.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what to do, Alder. We mustn’t seem too eager. Let the matter rest where it is until Monday. I suppose he expects you to call upon him again to-day?”
“Yes; I told him I should be there at seven.”
“Don’t go, and don’t write any explanation. Let him transfer a little of his anxiety to the fear of losing his fifty pounds. I want, if possible, to publish this information with absolute accuracy.”
“Is there any danger, Mr. Hardwick, that some of the other papers may get on the track of this?”
“No, I don’t think so; not for three days, anyway. If we appear too eager, this man Hazel may refuse us altogether.”
“Very good, sir.”
Miss Baxter heard the editor stop in his walk, and she heard the rustling of paper, as if the subordinate were gathering up some documents on which he had been consulting his chief. She was panic-stricken to think that either of the men might come out and find her in the position of an eavesdropper, so with great quietness she opened the door and slipped out into the hall, going from there to the entrance of the ordinary waiting-room, in which she found, not the twelve men that the porter had expatiated upon, but five. Evidently the other seven had existed only in the porter’s imagination, or had become tired of waiting and had withdrawn. The five looked up at her as she entered and sat down on a chair near the door. A moment later the door communicating with the room she had quitted opened, and a clerk came in. He held two or three slips of paper in his hand, and calling out a name, one of the men rose.
“Mr. Hardwick says,” spoke up the clerk, “that this matter is in Mr. Alder’s department; would you mind seeing him? Room number five.”
So that man was thus got rid of. The clerk mentioned another name, and again a man rose.
“Mr. Hardwick,” the clerk said, “has the matter under consideration. Call again to-morrow at this hour, then he will give you his decision.”
That got rid of number two. The third man was asked to leave his name and address; the editor would write to him. Number four was told that if he would set down his proposition in writing, and send it in to Mr. Hardwick, it would have that gentleman’s serious consideration. The fifth man was not so easily disposed of. He insisted upon seeing the editor, and presently disappeared inside with the clerk. Miss Baxter smiled at the rapid dispersion of the group, for it reminded her of the rhyme about the one little, two little, three little nigger-boys. But all the time there kept running through her mind the phrase, “Board of Public Construction,” and the name, “Hazel.”
After a few minutes, the persistent man who had insisted upon seeing the editor came through the general waiting-room, the secretary, or clerk, or whoever he was, following him.
“Has your name been sent in, madam?” the young man asked Miss Baxter, as she rose. “I think not,” answered the girl. “Would you take my card to Mr. Hardwick, and tell him I will detain him but a few moments?”
In a short time the secretary reappeared, and held the door open for her.
CHAPTER II. JENNIE HAS IMPORTANT CONFERENCES WITH TWO IMPORTANT EDITORS
Mr. Hardwick was a determined-looking young man of about thirty-five, with a bullet head and closely-cropped black hair. He looked like a stubborn, strong-willed person, and Miss Baxter’s summing up of him was that he had not the appearance of one who could be coaxed or driven into doing anything he did not wish to do. He held her card between his fingers, and glanced from it to her, then down to the card again.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Hardwick,” began Miss Baxter. “I don’t know that you have seen any of my work, but I have written a good deal for some of the evening papers and for several of the magazines.”
“Yes,” said Hardwick, who was standing up preparatory to leaving his office, and who had not asked the young woman to sit down; “your name is familiar to me. You wrote, some months since, an account of a personal visit to the German Emperor; I forget now where it appeared.”
“Oh, yes,” said Miss Baxter; “that was written for the Summer Magazine, and was illustrated by photographs.”
“It struck me,” continued Hardwick, without looking at her, “that it was an article written by a person who had never seen the German Emperor, but who had collected and assimilated material from whatever source presented itself.”
The