IV
THE SUGAR SAMPLERS
"Mr. Gard," said the chief, "I take it you would like to earn thestipend the Government pays you."
"Your lead sounds ominous," said the young special agent, who had a freeand easy way with him even at the Washington headquarters. "If I sayyes, you will hand me a large piece of hard work. If I say no, I will becourting discharge. I select the lesser of two evils. I confess to adesire to earn my money."
"It is like this," said the chief. "We suspect that there is a leak inthe collection of sugar duties. You know the possibilities. If a shipcomes to port with 10,000 tons of sugar from Cuba, it pays duty thatdepends on the purity of the cargo. If that sugar is graded at 92 percent. pure it gets in a half cent a pound cheaper than if it is graded96 per cent. pure. The difference in duty received by the Government onsuch a cargo might, theoretically, amount to $100,000."
"If I catch three ships," mused Gard half to himself, "I have earned mysalary for the rest of my life and won't have to work any more."
"I wouldn't just say that," responded the chief; "but if you saved theGovernment half a cent a pound on all the sugar imported, you wouldbring into the coffers a round two million a year. That would be a fairaccomplishment for a somewhat amateurish detective."
"Sustained by the flattery of my superior," said Gard. "I am ready torush into any mad undertaking. What are the orders?"
"You will be assigned to one of the great sugar ports. We do not evenknow that any fraud is being practised. You are to find out. If there isfraud you are to determine the method of it. The criminals, particularlythe big ones, are to be apprehended. The Government would like to knowhow these frauds may be prevented in future. The work need not becompleted to-morrow or next day. You may have any amount of help. But wemust know that sugar duties are honestly paid."
It was a week later that William H. Gard sent in his card to HenryGottrell, president of the Continental Refining Company, one of thegreatest importers of raw sugar in the nation. According to this cardGard was a writer of magazine stories. He had explained in asking for aninterview that he was assigned to write an article on "sugar ships,"which should be a yarn of color and romance in a setting of fact.
When the special agent entered the office of President Gottrell, largeand florid and radiating geniality, he found his plan of approachsomewhat interfered with by the presence of a third party. Seated at theelbow of the refiner was one of the most striking young women he hadever seen. Corn-colored hair gone mad in its tendency to curl made aperfect frizzle about her face. A flock of freckles, each seemingly inpursuit of its fellow just ahead, were hurdling the bridge of a somewhatpug nose. Blue eyes that danced and a mouth that responded to the racingthought of an active brain gave life to the face. And as she arose theslightest movement of her slim, well-rounded form suggested fast work ona tennis court.
Henry Gottrell presented his daughter.
"She always looked like a Swede," said the big man, "so we call herThelma."
"And Mr. Gard," she bubbled forth, "I have so wanted to know what awriter did when he goes for an interview. May I stay and see?"
"It will destroy the romantic illusion if you do," said Gard. "Are youwilling to pay the price?"
"I can't believe that," she said. "Do let me see how it is done! Don'tleave out a single thing."
"The interviewer begins," said the special agent, "by seating himself,as I am doing, in an uncomfortable chair which has been arranged withthe idea in mind of preventing him from staying too long. The gentlemanbeing interviewed always reaches into the right-hand drawer of his desk,as your father is doing, and produces a box of very excellent cigars.Then the interviewer explains the idea that is on his mind that requireselucidation. Has the man being interviewed anything on hand, alreadyprepared, that covers the ground. Maybe he has made a speech at aconvention, or something of that sort. The idea is to save labor forboth. Mr. Gottrell is now looking for the report of his testimonybefore the committee on tariff revision. He will probably produce threereprints that will contain much matter that I want. I ask if he willprovide a conversational escort to conduct me over one of his sugarships, if I may talk to his captains. He agrees. You see him doing it.The interview is at an end. The foundation has been laid for a romanceon 'sugar ships,' the same having a background of fact."
"That is splendid," exclaimed Miss Gottrell, "because it does so easilya thing that looks so hard. It does not spoil an illusion at all. It iswonderfully clever."
It was in this way that Special Agent Gard got an opportunity to go mostcarefully over the docks, through the warehouses, into the ships of theContinental Refining Company. It was in this way that he was enabled toask many questions that might have aroused suspicion had he been therein any other guise than that of a writing man. It was in this way thathe was able to observe rather carefully every process of the transfer ofa cargo of sugar through the customs house at which the FederalGovernment takes its toll.
All the time the special agent was looking for a clue--was bringing anincisive mind to bear upon the problem of the course the sugar took andthe possibility of fraud at each step. He spent days observing themethods of the weighers. He watched every detail of the transfer ofcargo from ship to warehouse. He loafed about the sheds where thesamples were taken--a process in which he took a vast interest.
Here the samplers, Government employees, ran their little hollow tubesthrough the mesh of the sacks that contained sugar. The tubes went inempty but came out full of that which was within. This constituted thesample for a given sack. Each sample was made into a little package,carefully labeled, and went to the Government laboratory to be tested.The duty on the sugar coming in was charged according to the degree ofpurity of these samples.
It was here that Billy Gard picked up his first clue. He noticed apeculiarity about the methods used by the samplers in inserting theirtubes into the sacks. They were always run along the side of the sackand never plunged into its very heart. Tobin, the little consumptive,sampled in this peculiar way, as did the hammer-handed Hansen of theevery-ready scowl. Yet it would be easier to take the sample out of themiddle of the bag. Why did the samplers skim near the edge?
Gard took this question to the Government laboratory, but found no readyanswer to it. He procured a typical sack of sugar and from it took twosamples--one from the very heart and one from the outside rim. These hehad tested in the laboratory. That from the middle of the bag showed adegree of purity 3 per cent. higher than that from the outside. Theimpurity, the report stated, was in the form of water.
Technical men were set to work to determine through many experiments thedifference in the grade of the sugar in different parts of the bag.Finally it was established that raw sugar has a tendency to take upmoisture, and that that portion of it which is exposed does so. Thesugar near the outside came in contact with the air which containedmoisture, while that on the inside did not. The refiners were, ofcourse, aware of this tendency. But the important conclusion from theviewpoint of Billy Gard was that the Government samplers were doingtheir work in such a way as to favor the importers. Here might be a leakthat was very important.
William H. Gard, special writer, that day disappeared from the sugardocks and was never seen again. Simultaneously with his disappearancethe saloon of Jean Flavot, not a block and a half distant, acquired anew customer in the person of a roughly dressed young laborer who didnot drink as heavily as some of his fellows, but was none the lesswilling to buy for others. But what was vastly more in his favor in theeyes of Flavot than even liberality was the fact that he spoke French.Mon Dieu, these rough Americans who knew not of the blandishments ofabsinthe and drank only the whisky! The resort keeper and the newcomerheld them in common contempt.
The special agent had selected the resort of Jean Flavot as a basis ofoperations because it was the place most frequented by the samplers. Hewanted, in the first place, to find out if these men had more money tospend than honest men of their salaries should have. The individ
ual whomakes illicit money usually spends it lavishly and it should thereforebe easy to determine if the samplers were being paid to be crooked. AndGard, after two weeks of convivial association with them, was ratherthrown back upon himself when he found that their carousals were alwayswithin their means and that money was scarce among them. They wereevidently not being bribed.
That he might get on a more intimate basis with these samplers Gard wentto work as a laborer on the docks, and there toiled for two months. Hecame to be most intimately one of them, was given every opportunity forobserving their work, was even intrusted with certain valuableconfidences when the men were sober and saw his way toward learning moreby associating with them when they were in their cups.
His task was but half finished, however, when the maiden with the frizzyhair and the freckles came near upsetting the beans. The daughter of thepresident of the company had played through her childhood on the docksand about the warehouse and was not yet averse to climbing stacks ofsugar sacks or descending into the hold of the ships. So it happenedthat she often visited the water front, and Gard had at first feared hemight be recognized, but this fear wore away as the visits wererepeated and no attention was paid to him.
But one busy day he was carting away the sacks of sugar that were beingunloaded in packages of twenty or so, slung in ropes and lifted bymighty derricks, when Miss Gottrell strolled down the docks under a pinkparasol and in the midst of an array of fluffy, spring ruffles such asmake a healthy, wholesome girl outrival in beauty the orchids of themost tropically luxuriant jungle.
The special agent had always liked corn-colored hair and freckles on thenose and worshiped at the shrine of the physically fit. Besides whichthis girl had enthusiasm and intelligence and inspiration. And it wasspring and he was a youngster shut off from his kind and lonesome. Hehad thought of her a lot of times since that day he had interested herby pretending to be something he was not. Now he rather resented it thatshe should be there and he a perspiring laborer, not daring to speak toher.
And just at that time something very startling happened. The great craneof the ship drew another load of sugar from the hold and swung itmajestically over the dock. In doing so it described a great sweep inreaching the spot where it was to be deposited. In the midst of thissweep a single sack of sugar slipped from beneath the ropes and camehurtling out and down as though it were a projectile from a sling.
The pink parasol was standing unconsciously with its back turneddirectly in the course of the flying bag. The vision of spring beneathit was gazing away to where a sail was just taking the fresh breeze.Billy Gard and his truck were emerging from the shed for a new load ofsugar. And here was a young man quick to act and with a training thatenabled him to do so effectively.
Three strides and a leap into the air were all the time allowed. Butthis was enough to make it possible for him to tackle about the waistthe catapulted sugar sack, much as he had often tackled the member of anopposing team who tried to go around his end in the old football days.To be sure, this end play was the fastest he had ever seen and resultedin a good spill, but it was a success. The pink parasol was uninjured.
Thelma Gottrell came to a realization of what had happened about thetime Gard was getting himself to his feet. She ran to him spontaneouslyand would have helped him to rise had he shown the forethought to be alittle slower.
"I do hope you are not hurt!" she began. "It was splendid--Oh! What? Itis Mr. Gard, isn't it? How in the world--" She stopped in consternation.Billy Gard grinned foolishly.
"Don't give me away," he pleaded with her. "It is a very great secretand it would all be spoiled if you did. A writing man must have color,must know life, you know. Please don't spoil my chance by telling asingle soul about it."
"Since you have probably saved my life," said she, "it would not begrateful of me to deny any wish of yours. But I will agree not to tellonly on one condition. You must promise to come to me and let me hearall about it when it is over."
"I promise," said Gard.
"And you must let me say that I think you are wonderful to do the thingsyou do, and that I thank you."
She placed her dainty glove in his grimy workingman's hand for a momentand was gone.
* * * * *
It was a wild Saturday night at Jean Flavot's. The occasion of thecelebration was the ending of the season on the sugar docks. For sevenmonths in the year the Continental Refining Company was busy with sugarthat poured in upon it from Cuba and Porto Rico and Santo Domingo andother lands to the south. Then there was a period of five months whenthere was no sugar from the outside and refiners turned their attentionto the home-grown crop.
Those men who had worked together in the camaraderie of the docks forseven months this season, and perhaps for many a year before, wereto-morrow to be dispersed. They would be scattered about at many placesand would play their part in the handling of the raw sugar that camefrom the canefields of Louisiana and the beet lands of Colorado andMichigan. Most probably they would meet again on these same docks fivemonths later. But assuredly there was every reason why they should endthe season in one mad carouse.
Billy Gard was present. Through the weeks that had passed he hadgradually tightened the net that revealed to the Government theconditions that existed on the sugar docks. But his case might still bestrengthened, for he wanted the whole story from a man who participatedin the irregularities, and in such a way that it might be introducedinto court as evidence. This was the last opportunity and the specialagent hoped that the story might be told to-night when the samplers werereckless over their liquor.
Jean Flavot brought whisky and beer when the big-fisted Hansen beat uponthe table. Billy Gard stood upon his chair and drank to the time whenthey would all get together again under the cobwebs that decorated theceiling of the little Frenchman. He led three lusty cheers for thattime, for none was so abandoned on these occasions as the youngster whohad saved the president's daughter. And Flavot and Billy interchanged awink, for they had a secret between them. Both knew that the beveragethat the special agent drank with such recklessness was nothing morethan cold tea, and the little Frenchman delighted in seeing hisfavorite lead these American pigs, who knew no decency in drinking, onto complete inebriety.
But Gard had a secret from even Flavot which had to do with a grimylittle man who sat at a nearby table and who had of late frequented theplace--a seedy, long-haired, sallow man who worked always with pencilover the manuscript of a play he was writing. As a true genius he paidno attention to what went on around him, but always pored over hispapers.
But this same man in Washington was a star stenographer at theDepartment of Justice, a dapper, one-time court reporter, the man whohad handled the listening end of many a dictagraph when the ways werebeing greased between men in high places and the penitentiary atAtlanta.
"And you samplers," Gard was saying, "where can I meet you when anotherSaturday night comes?"
"Me at the Bayou Fouche mills," said Hansen.
"And the company sends me to Colorado for my lungs," said Tobin, theconsumptive.
"And I keep time at the refinery," ventured "Fat" Cunningham.
"So everybody works," said the special agent. "Uncle Sam does not careif he lays good men off half the time, but the Continental people takecare of the samplers."
"Good is the reason why they should," said the consumptive Tobin. "Don'twe save them enough money in the way we take the samples?"
"How is that?" asked Gard.
"Look here, young fellow," said the gruff Hansen, "it seems to me thatyou are a good little asker of questions. Why are you so curious? Maybeyou are a secret service man, eh?"
"Sure," said Gard. "I am Chief Wilkinson himself."
"Wilkinson, nothing," said Hansen. "His name is Wilkie."
"Wilkie, your eye," argued the special agent. "Don't you suppose I readdetective stories? His name is Wilkinson."
But the sampler was sure of his facts and the apparent error of theo
ther man disarmed him.
"Well," he said, "as you're so curious and as I have the tip that youare to be a sampler next season, I might as well put you wise. We areall taken care of by the refiners because we look after their interestson the dock."
The big fellow looked carefully about, but there was nobody near exceptthe frowsy dramatist, who was absorbed in his manuscript. He threw offanother big drink of whisky and with it all discretion.
"You see," he said, "a sampler on Government wages would be in a prettyfix if he were let out after seven months and had to stand a chance ofloafing for five. So the company passes the word that if the boys do theright thing they will be given work during the off season. I happen toknow Gottrell himself and he takes me aside. That was eight years ago.
"'Hansen,' he says to me, 'pass the tip to the boys to sample right,' hesays, 'and there will be work for them between seasons.'
"'What do you mean, sample right?' I says.
"'Well,' he says, 'a wet sample may mean she grades 92 and a dry onethat she grades 94. A sampler can get a good many of them wet. I don'thave to tell you how.'
"So I passed the word," continued Hansen. "At the end of the seasonhalf of the samplers were offered jobs with the company. It was easy, ofcourse, for them to find from the records who was getting wet sugar. Nota dry sugar man got a job. You ask Tobin. He was one of the guys whoheld out for honesty. But it was a hard season for Tobin, with hishealth bad and three kids. So next season he lined up. So did most ofthem. Inside of three years there was not a sampler on the dock who wasnot taking them wet."
"But put me wise," said Gard. "If I am going to get a sampler's job nextyear you better pass the word to me so I will know how to hold it."
"I guess you know enough about raw sugar," said the sampler, "to knowthat it drinks up moisture like a sponge when it gets a chance. Well,they are not careful in keeping out the damp air when it is aboard ship,and it often comes handy, not altogether by accident, for a sack ofsugar to get a chance to lie on a wet board. The sugar on the outsidenaturally gets a little damp, and if you will turn a sack over you mayfind a wet side to it. The first lesson is to take your samples fromthe wet side of the sack and from the part near the outside.
"But maybe the sugar has been kept pretty dry. Well it is up to thesampler to get a little moisture into his tube. If it is a warm day afew drops of sweat may be gathered by a scrape of the back of your hand.Every drop is worth its weight in gold a hundred times to the refiners.It would surprise you to learn how cleverly the sampler learns to spit abit of tobacco juice into his tube. You have worked on the docks for along time. You never saw it done, did you? But they were at it all thetime. I bet the Government has paid a million dollars for tobacco juicein the last ten years. Cunningham, here, has grown fat eating tobacco."
"But does everybody on the dock take wet samples?" asked the detective.
"Surest thing you know," said Hansen. "Ask them."
"How about it, Cunningham?" queried Gard.
"I need the work," said the fat man.
"And you, Tobin?"
"I held out a year," said the little consumptive, "but couldn't affordto lose my job."
All the others present pleaded guilty.
"Don't you fellows get anything for it but a little off-season work?"asked Gard.
"Not a thing," acknowledged Hansen with a huge oath. "We certainly sellout cheap and the company makes barrels of money out of the bargain. Butthe old man has never given us a look in on any of it."
The dictagraph stenographer at the next table had caught every word. Hewas in a position to substantiate the testimony of Gard who should beable to make these samplers tell their stories in court. Soon the twofaded away without being missed, but they took with them a complete caseagainst the Government samplers of this port and against the ContinentalRefining Company which had been profiting through their shortcomings.
It was a month later and Billy Gard had completed his work. He had goneto Henry Gottrell "cold turkey," and with authority from the department.He had shown that rotund and genial captain of industry just the casethe Government had against him. With him he had gone over the record ofthe business of the refiners since that period, eight years previous,when the wet sample scheme had been inaugurated. He had worked out anestimate of the probable duty that the Government had lost during thattime. The actual loss was not, of course, as great as the theoretical,for many of the samples were of necessity honest. Yet it must have runas high as $600,000 as a shortage on the part of Gottrell and hisassociates.
Gard indicated the possibility of the success of a criminal prosecution,the probability of recovering that large sum of money through thecourts. He confessed to the humiliation of the Government that so manyof its employees had been false to their trust. He even granted that theGovernment might, under the circumstances, feel itself somewhat to blamefor the conditions that had existed. It is not recorded whether thevision of a girl with frizzly, corn-colored hair came into the mind ofthe special agent and had to do with his recommendations that the casebe settled out of court. But certain it is that the Governmentauthorized him to propose that, if the company should pay the Government$600,000, an amount it would be just able to raise and escapebankruptcy, the case would be dismissed, the samplers discharged, and anew regime inaugurated in which the Government would take pains toprotect itself.
Upon this basis the case was settled. Billy Gard had earned his salary.
The next day he was packing up at his hotel in preparation for leavingfor Washington when there arrived by messenger a little, square,delicately scented envelope which he tore open somewhat wonderingly.Inside he found this note:
Father has told me all about it. For the third time let me say, "Splendid!" And remember that you promised to come and tell me about it when it was all over.
THELMA GOTTRELL.
Which would seem a perfectly good reason why Gard was a day late inreaching Washington.