Spirited, maidenly purity will work itself into a sort of ecstatic, swaggering turbulence, similar to a hardened degenerate, frequently to the chagrin, disappointment and dismay of the most practiced.

When through with Miss Bascom, I will confess I could not tell in which class she belonged. War had brought to our shores hideous flotsam, whom I did not care, did not want, to know. I wanted trap bait, and why not her? Had I mentioned my belief that she had sent the anonymous notes to Hiram, or that she had been seen dining with the Gold-Beater, Hiram Strong, Sr., after six hours' business acquaintance, her attitude would have instantly developed.

A certain cold-blooded brutality in what I proposed must be admitted. I wanted to clear Hiram and finish a long-drawn-out case, and one doesn't want to know the pedigree of the lamb used as bait for a lion. But I proposed to save her from the fate of the lamb in such cases, although she had consented, without duress, to act. I felt that it was Burrell she wanted to save.

I gave her some work that would occupy about all the afternoon, and took measures to prevent her leaving the building or telephoning without being overheard.

Becker was in the city and about his office. His business was flourishing.

With the coÖperation of the hotel management two communicating rooms on the second floor were arranged for at the hotel frequented by Becker, and these were prepared for my purpose.

At four o'clock when I asked her to dress for the street and come with me, she did so without hesitation—in fact, she seemed eager—but I could not be sure of that.

As we walked silently down to the hotel she appeared to be sure of herself, and if she was surprised when we entered the ladies' entrance and walked up the one flight to the rooms, she gave no evidence of it. I felt assured she had the necessary self-control.

She was quick to notice that the door between the two rooms was open, but made no comment, and apparently as though in her own lodgings, removed her hat, to make herself comfortable. She went to the glass, touched her wonderful hair here and there as though to add something to its alluring arrangement, impressing me anew that she was in point of beauty, at least, a most attractive girl, and I again complimented Becker's ambitious taste and selection. As for throwing herself away for the married, sporting Burrell, I pitied her for her lack of discrimination.

She took the chair I pointed to in front of a writing desk on which was the room telephone. The way she rested her elbow on it and half turned toward me suggested that she awaited my signal of "what next?"

"Miss Bascom," said I, taking a chair facing her, "I feel like warning you that you are undertaking a most delicate, difficult, and even dangerous enterprise. If you fail through inability, it will be understood, but if you fail by reason of half-heartedness or any sort of treachery, I will not be responsible. I am positively in no mood to condone such an offense, besides I am not the only one involved in this arrangement—there are others who are less likely to be trifled with than myself." I spoke good-naturedly and with something of a plea for her own welfare.

"Mr. Taylor," she began, in quiet, sweet, Southern accent, "I have consented to act a part in good faith, and if I fail it will be because it cannot be done." Then, with charming assurance, she glanced into the other room and at the telephone before her, and said, "Explain just what you want me to do."

She seemed almost too willing and a certain nervousness in her tone left some doubt. But we had arranged for duplicity, and though I felt the ice a little thin, decided to go ahead.

"Miss Bascom, your motive in maintaining relations with Mr. Becker is something of a conjecture that I am not much interested in now. It may interest you, however, to know that I know of your meeting with him in a wine room of this hotel." Then taking from my pocket a typewritten report of the meeting, I continued, "The least sound that was made in that room at that time is here recorded as nearly as possible in words and sound of voice. I know what you drank, what he drank, that you submitted to his caresses, kisses, that he made salacious proposals, and there may have been subsequent meetings of which we do not know."

She started visibly at this and moved uneasily in her chair, laid her chin in her palm and looked straight at me with eyes burning like fire—I thought slightly mixed with alarm and amusement, but she did not utter a word, so I continued:

"In order that you proceed intelligently in this matter I will tell you that Becker is a criminal and that we have ample evidence to convict him, but in order to make it easier, and to reach others, I want you to get him to come up here to this room, then actually lure from him what we want."

She made no sign and I went on:

"There are times when fire must be met with fire, crime sometimes has to be uncovered by finesse, strategy, trick, even downright subterfuge, and this seems to be one of the times. His weakest point is his penchant for pretty women."

Miss Bascom evidenced intense interest in what I said and seemed to weigh every word I uttered. But she did not appear to want to reply or suggest anything, though she seemed to take on an exultant attitude.

"We have ample evidence to convict him of robbing cars of meat products, and to do this he must have in his possession the seals of the United States Bureau of Animal Industry, and the shippers of the goods in Kansas City, as well as the railroad seals, and the instruments for adjusting. These we want.

"We believe that he has them secreted here in New Orleans. The plan is that by your protestation of interest, affection or whatnot, you will induce him to place them in your hands for safekeeping. We are certain he has been furnished these things with help from Kansas City. Do you think you can do it?" I ended by asking suddenly.

"What will happen if I fail?" she surprised me by asking.

"If you fail and can show a clean slate, nothing unpleasant will happen," I replied rather coldly, suggestive of what might happen if the reverse were true.

"I—think—I may be able to make some headway, but it may take more time than you anticipate," she warned me quietly.

"I don't care how much time you take, or how much expense, but it must be a continuous performance—nothing more than an intermission will be allowable. This telephone will be permanently connected with mine in the next room. If he wants you to drink, do so, and nothing containing alcohol will come to you, and though he is copper-lined, we will contrive to put him at a disadvantage and you can easily use the 'phone to ask for instructions when you are not sure." Then contemplating her critically for a moment, I added—"You said you were willing to do anything."

"I know I did—and I will—and I begin to feel safe—you will protect me, won't you?" she asked me with a delightful appeal in her eyes that could not be refused.

"Every precaution has been made for that—you will not be disturbed; the waiter who serves you is one of our men—but you must act, you must succeed. Becker is probably in his office now; call him up," I added, giving his number.

There was no doubt about her eagerness and distinct intention to succeed, to do anything, but I could not decide whether she was moved by fear or a genuine desire to coÖperate, get revenge, or to save Burrell.

Becker fell incontinently during the first round.

There was in every word a purr, a coo, an invitation—she assumed the attitude of permitting him to come up, to see her for just a little while at the hotel.

Her low laugh of triumph was more of a chuckle as she turned to me for approbation.

"Fine—so far very good," I commented as though the result was no more than expected and prepared to go into the other room and lock the door, where she did not know I could overhear every whisper that passed, though she may have suspected something of the sort.

Becker's haste to get there was evidenced by the speed with which he came, and his entrance was Falstaffian. But the real Falstaff had no such intrigue arranged for him. He was not a criminal.

The meeting between Bascom and Becker lasted over six hours. The stenographers at the dictaphone in my room made over a hundred pages of evidence to be used at the trial.

When it was over, just before midnight, and I led Miss Bascom out of the hotel to a cab, her sturdy body seemed a wreck. She leaned heavily on me and seemed to have aged greatly. As she was about to enter the vehicle, she looked back into the building, horrified, as though reason was unseated by wild imaginations that she was pursued by a legion of dreaded devils. She did not utter a word until she was seated inside, when she reached her hand, delicate and soft, for mine, and with gentle pressure, exclaimed as though waking from a terrible nightmare:

"Mr. Taylor, I have lived a hundred years in the last six hours—but—but"—she hesitated, gasping for breath—"I have done what I—we—what you wanted me to do."

Of course, when Becker first came the overture was drink; it always is. Having full control of that through the waiter we saw that the first ones had more punch than he expected, but we gave her a mere counterfeit of what he thought she was drinking. The sumptuous food he ordered was carefully served. Later we had to weaken his potions so that his mad desire would run at its height, waiting on neither discretion nor reason. I heard every word, every sound. Her acting was perfection. The indignities she suffered were terrible and could not have been endured except for the reason that they were fortified by a deep, enduring, sacrificial tendency to be loyal. This conclusion forced itself upon me. His protestations were repeated over and over and merged into a plea for sympathy.

Her generalship was superb. He promised her everything. She patiently, cautiously led him to the point where she told him, that by reason of her position in the office she knew he had been led into certain transactions that might lead to her disgrace, in view of the alliance he proposed.

"But that is all stopped," he reiterated a dozen times.

Then, with wonderful acumen, she let him understand that she knew of the existence of various stamps and seals, finally that their very existence was a menace and she could not feel any security in his promise until she knew they were destroyed.

"I will put them at the bottom of the river to-morrow morning."

"But if you are really in earnest and mean well, you will do that now, this very night—let me see you do it, or bring them to me," she coaxed, wheedled, insinuated.

And then finally with the blood fired by alcohol and that quality that makes men putty in the hands of beauty and sex lure, he ordered a cab and in an incredibly short time returned with quite a large package wrapped carefully in burlap. He left the room for a moment in his preparations for the anticipated night. I opened the door between the rooms, admitted her with the package, about all she could carry, and he never saw her again. The mad, inflamed bull was stalled with a ring in his nose.

This blazed the trail to Kansas City, where I started on the next train, and did not return for more than a week.