do you wonder that?" demanded Annie.
"I like the type, and I want to get some cards printed from it."
"We print our own bills," said the child. "There's a press an' type an'the fixings in a room in the basement, an' Tom Linnet used to print anew card every day for all the three meals. He did it at night, youknow, between two an' six o'clock, when nobody's ever around the hotel.They was swell bills-of-fare, but Tom claimed he couldn't do so muchprintin', although that's part o' the night clerk's duty, an' Pathought it used up too much good cardboard at war-time prices. So nowwe jus' get out a new bill once a week, an' write the extry dishes onit."
"That does very well," said Josie. "Does Tom still do the printing?"
"Yes. Pa hired him as night clerk 'cause he'd worked in a printin'office an' could do printin'. But since Tom got rich he don't like towork, an the bills ain't printed as good as they used to be."
"This looks pretty good to me," said Josie, eyeing it approvingly.
"I guess, if Tom wasn't goin' to leave, Pa would fire him," assertedAnnie, rising from the table. "Good mornin', miss; I'll see you again,if you're stoppin' here."
After she had gone, Josie finished her breakfast thoughtfully. Threedistinct facts she had gleaned from Annie Boyle's careless remarks.First, Tom Linnet had acquired sudden riches. Second, the type used onthe hotel menu cards was identically the same that the disloyalcirculars had been printed from. Third, between the hours of two andfive in the mornings, the night clerk's duties permitted him to beabsent from the hotel office.
Josie decided that Annie Boyle had not been admitted to the innerconfidences of the conspirators, and that Tom Linnet was their tool andhad been richly paid for whatever services he had performed. She wasnow gathering "clues" so fast that it made her head swim. "That chancemeeting with Kauffman, at Kasker's," she told herself, "led me directlyinto the nest of traitors. I'm in luck. Not that I'm especially clever,but because they're so astonishingly reckless. That's usually the waywith criminals; they close every loop-hole but the easiest one to peepthrough--and then imagine they're safe from discovery!"
CHAPTER XIXTHE PRINTING OFFICE
After breakfast Josie sallied out upon the street and found a hardwarestore. There, after some exploration, she purchased an asbestostable-mat. With this she returned to her room and locked herself in.
The chambermaid had "been and gone," but Josie's drawer was stilllocked and its precious contents intact. The girl scraped the surfaceof the table-mat with her pen-knife until she had secured enough loosefibre to serve her purpose and then she proceeded to restuff the fusewith the asbestos fibre the entire length of the section from which shehad removed the powder. Then she pushed the end of the fuse into thehole in the bomb, wired it as before, and replaced the long fuse in itsgrooves.
"Now," said Josie, surveying her work with satisfaction, "if they lightthat fuse, and expect it to explode the bomb in an hour or more,they'll be badly fooled. Also, I shall have prevented anothercatastrophe like the explosion at the airplane factory."
She replaced the bomb in its bag, placed the bag in the black satchel,tucked in the soiled shirts to cover it and with her improvised keymanaged to relock the satchel. Watching for a time when the corridorwas vacant, she went to 45, entered the room and replaced the satchelon its shelf, taking care to arrange the newspaper before it as a mask.
She had taken the chair from the closet and was about to leave the roomwhen she heard footsteps coming down the hallway, accompanied by awhistle which she promptly recognized.
"Caught!" she exclaimed, and gave a hurried glance around her. To hidewithin the room was impossible, but the window was open and the ironfire-escape within easy reach. In an instant she had mounted it andseizing the rounds of the iron ladder climbed upward until she hadnearly reached the next window directly above, on the third floor. Thenshe paused, clinging, to get her breath.
Kauffman was annoyed to find the door of his room unlocked. He paused amoment in the middle of the room and looked around him. "Confound thatchambermaid!" Josie heard him mutter, and then he opened the closetdoor and looked in. Apparently reassured, he approached the openwindow, stuck out his head and looked _down_ the fire-escape. Josie'sheart gave a bound; but Kauffman didn't look upward. He drew in hishead, resumed his whistling and busied himself repacking the samplesuspenders in his suitcase.
Josie hoped he would soon go out again, but he seemed to have nointention of doing so. So she climbed her ladder until she could lookinto the window above, which was also open. The old lady she had seenat breakfast was lying upon the bed, her eyes closed. Josie wondered ifshe was asleep. The door leading from the room to the hallway alsostood open. The weather was warm, and the old lady evidently wantedplenty of air.
While Josie hesitated what to do a boy came up the alley, noticed heron the fire-escape and paused to look at her in astonishment. The girlcouldn't blame him for being interested, for her attitude was certainlyextraordinary. Others were likely to discover her, too, and mightsuspect her of burglary and raise a hue and cry. So she deliberatelyentered the room, tiptoed across to the hall and escaped withoutarousing the old lady. But it was a desperate chance and she breathedeasier when she had found the stairs and descended to her own floor.Safe in her own room she gave a little laugh at her recent predicamentand then sat down to note her latest discoveries on her tablets.
Josie O'Gorman was very particular in this regard. Details seemingly oftrifling moment but which may prove important are likely to escapeone's memory. Her habit was to note every point of progress in a caseand often review every point from the beginning, fitting them intotheir proper places and giving each its due importance. A digest ofsuch information enabled her to proceed to the next logical step in herinvestigation.
"These items all dovetail very nicely," she decided, with a satisfiednod at the quaint characters on the tablets--which all the world mightread and be no wiser. "I must, however, satisfy myself that Tom Linnetactually printed those circulars. The evidence at hand indicates thathe did, but I want positive proof. Also, I'd like to know which one ofthe gang employed him--and paid him so liberally. However, thatsuggestion opens up a new line of conjecture; I don't believe TomLinnet got all his wealth merely for printing a few circulars, helpingto address them, and keeping his mouth shut. But--what else has he beenpaid for?"
She brooded on this for a while and then determined to take one thingat a time and follow it to a conclusion. So she once more quitted herroom and descended by the elevator--openly, this time--to the office.It was now noon and the hotel office was filled with guests, and theclerks and bellboys were all busily occupied. Josie wandered carelesslyaround until she found the stairway leading to the basement. Watchingher opportunity she slipped down the stairs.
The basement was not as barren as she expected to find it. There was anopen central space, on one side of which were rooms for the barbershop, baths, and a pool room, all more or less occupied by guests andattendants. On the opposite side, at the rear, were baggage andstorerooms. Just beside her she noted a boot-black's stand, where acolored boy listlessly waited for customers.
"Shine, miss?" he inquired.
"No," said Josie in a businesslike tone; "I'm looking for the printingoffice."
"Secon' door, miss," indicating it with a gesture; "but dey ain'tnobody dere. De room's mos'ly kep' locked."
"I know," said Josie, and advancing to the door drew out her keys.
Her very boldness disarmed suspicion; the boy was not sufficientlyinterested to watch her, for a man came out of the barber-shop andseated himself in the boot-black's chair.
This sort of lock didn't phase Josie at all. At the second trial sheopened the door, walked in and closed the door behind her.
It was a small room, dimly lighted and very disorderly. Scraps of paperwere strewn around the floor. Dust had settled on the ink-rollers ofthe foot-press. A single case of type stood on a rack and the form of abill-of-fare--partly "pied"--was on a marble slab which formed the topof a small
table. On an upturned soap-box was a pile of unprinted menucards. Josie noted a few cans of ink, a bottle of benzine, and a fewprinting tools lying carelessly about, but the room contained nothingmore.
Having "sized up" Tom Linnet's printing room with one swift glance, thegirl stooped down and began searching among the scraps that litteredthe floor. They were mostly torn bits of cardboard or crumpled paperson which trial impressions had been made.
Josie expected momentarily to be interrupted, so she conducted hersearch as rapidly as was consistent with thoroughness. She paid noattention to