THAT night, when Tom got to bed, he thought so intently about what had happened, that he could hardly sleep. He tried to outline some plan, by which he might get at the bottom of the mystery that seemed to be developing, but he could concoct none that appeared satisfactory.
“I’m sure of one or two things,” he said to himself. “One is that Sandow doesn’t like me, and, I believe he’s a little bit afraid of what he thinks I know. Another is that Mr. Cutler doesn’t like me, but he isn’t alarmed that I know anything. He’d have me discharged if he could. And another thing is that Sandow and Cutler are in with each other. And the last thing is that it has to do with the estate of Dr. Spidderkins.
“But I don’t see what I can do. I don’t know anything about law, and if I spoke to Mr. Boise, Cutler might make it appear that everything was all right, and I would only be laughed at. No, I’ll lay low for a while yet.”
“Well, Tom,” said Mr. Keen the next morning, “I see you got the papers all right. I found them on my desk, when I came in. But you should not have opened the envelope they were in. Some of them might have been lost.”
“I didn’t open the envelope.”
“You didn’t? Why, I found it open on my desk.”
“It was closed when I left it there.”
“That’s odd,” remarked Mr. Keen in a low voice, but he did not in the least doubt Tom’s word. “Was there any one in the office but yourself?” he asked. “Maybe the envelope fell to the floor off my desk, and, being quite full, burst open. The janitor may have picked it up.”
“Mr. Cutler was in his room, when I came back last night,” replied Tom. “He had some one with him. But I don’t believe the envelope could have fallen off your desk. I placed it right in the middle.”
“Strange how it could have come open then,” went on Mr. Keen. “It looks as if the envelope was opened, and then sealed up again, but not securely. Well, it doesn’t matter much.”
But Tom could see that the lawyer was annoyed by the incident, though the telephone boy was glad there was no hint of suspicion against himself.
At the same time, there came into Tom’s mind, a vague suspicion against Mr. Cutler. Yet, what object would that lawyer have in opening the envelope containing papers in a case, which, presumably, all the partners knew about?
“Or could it have been Sandow?” thought Tom. “He might have sneaked in and opened the envelope, when Cutler left him alone for a minute. That Sandow is a sneak, I believe. I have proof enough of that in the way he tried to make me believe that mysterious message I heard him give Cutler didn’t amount to anything.”
But Tom had little more time for thought that morning, as the switchboard kept him almost constantly engaged. The firm had several important cases to attend to, and inquiries and messages concerning them were constantly coming in.
“Whew! My ear aches!” exclaimed Tom to himself, after an hour during which he had been engaged in putting plugs in, taking them out, shifting cams and pressing buttons. “This sort of life is lively enough, at times, to suit almost any one. But I guess I’ll have a chance now to look at my law book.”
For Tom still stuck to the resolution he had made, to “read law” during his spare moments. He was looking intently at the book, yet alert for any telephone call that might come in, when he became aware that a stranger had entered the office. He looked up to see a man, evidently a farmer in his “Sunday” clothes, standing beside the telephone desk.
“Is my case ready?” asked the man, evidently taking it for granted that Tom was either a member of the firm, or, at least, must keep track of all the cases.
“I don’t know,” the boy answered politely. “What is the name, please, and who did you want to see?”
“Wa’al, I reckon I want to see Boise, Keen & Cutler. That’s the way all the letters is signed that I git. Which one be you?”
“None of them,” answered Tom, with a smile. “But if you tell me which member of the firm you wish to see I’ll inquire about your case for you.”
“Wa’al, I’m switched if I know. Jest as I say, all the letters was signed with the hull three names.”
“Were there any initial under the name?” inquired Tom, for it was the practice of the firm to sign the names of all three partners, together with the first letter of the name of whichever particular lawyer happened to dictate the letter.
“Here, look for yourself,” invited the farmer, holding out a missive. “That’s the last one I got, an’ it says my case was comin’ off to-day.”
Tom looked at the letter. It was one concerning a lawsuit over some water-rights on a farm, and from the fact that the letter “B” was below the firm signature, the boy concluded that Mr. Boise had written it.
“I guess you want to see the senior partner, Mr. Boise,” said Tom. “Take a chair, Mr. Kendall, and I’ll find out when he can see you.”
“How’d you know my name was Kendall?” asked the odd client sharply. “You ain’t one of them gold-brick swindlers, be ye? I understand they call a man by his name as soon as they set eyes on him.”
“I saw your name at the top of this letter,” replied the boy, handing the missive back.
Then, when the farmer was carefully stowing the letter away in his wallet, Tom quietly slipped a plug into the hole connecting with the ’phone in the room of Mr. Boise, and asked when the lawyer could see Mr. Kendall.
“Send him in in five minutes,” came back the answer.
By this time the farmer had buttoned his coat over his pocketbook, and he looked up at Tom.
“Wa’al, when ye goin’ to do it?” he asked.
“Do what?”
“Ye said ye’d find out when the head lawyer would see me.”
“So I did. He’ll see you in five minutes.”
“Look a-here, young man!” exclaimed Mr. Kendall. “Don’t try none of them tricks. I’m sharp, even if I do come from the country.”
“What tricks?” asked Tom innocently, for he was not aware that he had done anything out of the ordinary.
“Why, you said you’d go see when the lawyer would see me. Now you say he’ll see me in five minutes. You may be one of them new-fangled mind-readers I’ve heard tell about, but I don’t believe it. I don’t take no stock in it. Now you go find out when the lawyer will see me. My time’s valuable, for I’ve got a lot of work to do, out at the farm.”
“I did find out, Mr. Kendall. Mr. Boise will see you in five minutes.”
“Hold on thar!” exclaimed the farmer. “You can’t fool me. I’ve watched you every minute, an’ you ain’t left your chair sence I come in. All you’ve been doin’ is play with them there cords. Now you git right up an’ find out when Mr. Boise will see me! I ain’t so green as I look.”
“Oh, I see!” exclaimed Tom, comprehending. “You see, I telephoned to him.”
“Telephoned to him? You can’t fool me that way. I know what a telephone is. We’ve got ’em out our way, an’ a bell rings when you telephone. Besides, there ain’t no telephone here, and who ever heard of telephonin’ from one room to another?”
“But you see this is a private exchange switchboard,” explained Tom, and he told how it was possible to speak to a lawyer in the next room, without leaving his seat. He made it quite clear to the farmer.
“Oh, I understand,” said Mr. Kendall. “I’m sorry I made such a fuss about it, ’specially when you ain’t well. Did you see a doctor about it?”
“About what?” asked the boy, wondering what new notion the farmer had.
“About your ear ache. I see you have to wear some instrument on yer head. I had a nephew once that had ear ache dreadful bad. We done everything for him, blew smoke into it, put bags of hot pepper in, but it didn’t do no good. Then I poured some hot sweet oil in, and that worked fine. Ever try it?”
“But I have no ear ache.”
“You ain’t? Then what ye got that contraption on yer head for?”
“Oh, that’s the telephone receiver. I have it clamped over my ear so I will have both hands free to use on the plugs.”
“Oh!” remarked Mr. Kendall. “I wondered what in the world it was for. Suthin’ like blinders on a hoss.”
Just then one of the drops fell, and Tom, inserting a plug, heard Mr. Boise speaking to him.
“I’ll see Mr. Kendall now,” he said.
“Mr. Boise will attend to your case now,” repeated Tom to the farmer.
“Wa’al, I’ll be switched, ef that ain’t quite an invention,” exclaimed the farmer, as he arose to go into the inner office. “I never heard of telephonin’ to a man twenty feet from ye. Next thing they’ll be havin’ flyin’ machines t’ go from one room t’ another.”