CHAPTER XIX
A GIRL’S TESTIMONY
WHEN Mr. Boise had gone Tom sat at the switchboard, but he had lost all interest, for the present, in the law book. It was closed, and his thoughts were all centered on the queer happenings in which he was involved.
It was getting rather late, and the building was gradually becoming quiet, as the various tenants passed out and closed up their offices.
Tom wondered how long he would have to stay, and whether he had better send some word to his mother about the delay. Then he decided it would be best not to. He might have to go home with bad news soon enough—news that he had been discharged—though he knew he was innocent, and he hoped Mr. Boise would be able to prove this.
Presently the door of Mr. Cutler’s room opened, and that lawyer came out.
“Has Mr. Boise returned yet?” he asked.
“No, sir.”
“Have all the clerks gone?”
Mr. Cutler started into Mr. Keen’s room. He looked in, to discover that his partner was not there.
“Has Mr. Keen gone home?” he inquired.
“I believe so.”
“Look here!” exclaimed Mr. Cutler suddenly, coming close to Tom, “why don’t you get out of here.”
“Get out of here? What do you mean?”
“I mean before Mr. Boise returns. He’ll probably find out exactly what you did, and then he’ll discharge you. If you go now, he’ll not have the opportunity, and you’ll stand a better chance of getting another place.”
“Why, that would be running away!” exclaimed Tom indignantly. “That would be like admitting I was guilty.”
“Well, aren’t you?”
“No, sir!”
“Oh, come now,” went on Mr. Cutler, in a more friendly tone than he had ever before used toward Tom. “I think I know all about how it happened. You felt a little grieved—perhaps because I have scolded you once or twice. You wanted to get even, and, when you heard that conversation about the dam, you determined to mention it to the lawyer on the other side. Of course, it was very wrong, but I don’t believe you’ll do it again.
“I want to help you, even if you did wrong. Now I’m advising you for your own good. You can leave now, and I’ll tell Mr. Boise you are sorry for what you did. He’ll forgive you, I’m sure. I’ll even help you get another job.”
“Do you mean you think me guilty, yet you would help me get another position like this?” asked Tom, determined to see how far Cutler would go.
“Well—er—maybe not a place like this, in a law office, for they would be sure to ask questions. But I’d get you a good place. Come, now, you’d better leave before Mr. Boise gets back with the proof of your guilt.”
“I don’t see how he can get proof of my guilt, when I am not guilty.”
“Oh, I understand all about that,” went on the lawyer, earnestly, as though he was anxious to hurry Tom to a decision. “I was young once myself. You acted hastily. I think I can explain it to Mr. Boise.”
“No!” exclaimed Tom indignantly. “I’ll not run away! I never sent that message, and Mr. Boise will be so informed at the telephone office. Why, if I went now he would have every reason to think me guilty!”
“Well, I’ve done my best for you,” answered the lawyer, as he turned impatiently aside. “When you’re discharged, and looking for a place, don’t blame me. It’s your own fault.”
“I’ll not blame you,” spoke Tom. “I’m not afraid of the consequences. I trust Mr. Boise. He’ll not discharge me unjustly. But if he does, perhaps I can get a place with Dr. Spidderkins,” he said, as a sudden thought came to him.
“Dr. Spidderkins! What sort of a place can you get with him? He doesn’t practice any more?”
The lawyer seemed strangely excited.
“I know that,” replied Tom, “but perhaps he would be glad to hire me to help look after his estate. I understand he has quite a large one, and that his brother-in-law would like to get possession of it.”
“What’s that? What are you saying?” demanded Mr. Cutler almost shouting the words, as he started toward Tom, as though he would strike him. “Are you making threats—you—you——”
He seemed to be so angry, or so alarmed, that he could not speak. Before Tom could make reply, or the lawyer ask any more questions, the door opened and Mr. Boise entered.
The senior partner of the firm was not alone. Behind him stood a pretty girl, who glanced around the office and then frankly smiled at Tom. He thought she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen.
“Well, I suppose you found out that I was right about it; did you not?” asked Mr. Cutler.
“Not exactly,” replied the senior partner. “There were two messages sent from this office, lately, to Mr. Kittridge.”
“Ah, I thought so,” murmured Mr. Cutler, while Tom was wondering what the pretty girl could have to do with the case.
“One message was the one which I sent,” went on Mr. Boise. “The other was sent the day before the case came to trial. The manager of the company looked up his records, and he made a suggestion which I think will solve the problem.”
“What is that?” asked Mr. Cutler, while he glanced uneasily at the pretty girl.
“It is this: The manager suggested that the young lady in charge of that part of the switchboard in the main office, where our wires are, might remember something about it. He sent for her, and I had a talk with her. She does remember the two calls for the office of Kittridge, for the reason that, at present his is the only telephone on a particular circuit.”
“But can she tell who called?” asked Mr. Cutler.
“Not exactly. I laid the case before her, and she said she was sure of one thing.”
“What is that?”
“That is that the person who is regularly at our switchboard did not call for the office of Kittridge the second time.”
“That’s nonsense!” exclaimed Mr. Cutler. “How can she remember a person’s voice?”
“You may ask her yourself,” said Mr. Boise, as he turned to the pretty girl. “Allow me to introduce to you Miss Minnie Renfield, who is the young lady in charge of the trunk lines from our office. Miss Renfield, just tell Mr. Cutler and Tom, here, what you told me.”
“I have been a central operator for a number of years,” said Miss Renfield, with an engaging smile. “I have a very good memory for voices. After I hear a voice over the telephone once or twice, I never forget it. Several of my friends can do the same thing.
“I know the voice of your private exchange operator very well. I have had quite some conversation with him lately, about one of the wires that was out of order. I know his voice as soon as he calls for a number.”
Tom smiled. This, then, was the girl whom he had wished to meet. He had his wish, now, but he would have been glad had it been under happier circumstances.
“Do you mean to say that you can recognize voices over the telephone?” demanded Mr. Cutler.
“Yes, sir; I can. I remember the two calls for the Kittridge office. I have to make a note of every call, and those two were on a new wire, that has recently been put in. The first call was made by your regular operator, I am sure of that.”
“That was the time I had Tom get Kittridge for me, when I refused to consent to an adjournment,” put in Mr. Boise.
“But the second call? The call when the secret was disclosed?” asked Mr. Cutler.
“That was not made by your operator here,” said Miss Renfield firmly.
“Are you sure?” demanded the junior partner.
“Quite sure. I recall wondering at the time who was calling up. The call came in at one fifty-seven.”
“This is preposterous!” exclaimed Mr. Cutler. “No one can remember that!”
“I made a record of it,” declared the young lady. “It was exactly one fifty-seven.”
“And that’s the time I was out to lunch!” exclaimed Tom suddenly. “I was with my chum, Charley Grove! He can prove it!”
Mr. Cutler looked confused. But he was not going to give up yet.
“I think this young lady means all right,” he said, “but I doubt if she can so readily distinguish voices over the wire. I believe she is in error. I think Tom Baldwin sent that message.”
“I believe I can prove that I am right, and that he did not,” answered Minnie Renfield, confidently. “Will you allow me?”
“Certainly,” answered Mr. Boise. “This is a serious matter, and I want it cleared up.”
“Then I am going to propose a little experiment,” said the girl with a smile at Tom.