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Burke for a minute regretted that he had not insisted on admission. It might have been possible for Trubus to have received some sort of warning. The "best-laid plans of mice and men" had one bad habit, as Burke recollected, just at the moment when success was apparently within grasp. But the door opened again.
Burke looked at the old doctor admiringly. "If there were more men like you, Doc, there wouldn't be so much hypocrisy, and there would be more real good done. Anyhow, I believe I'll look up this angelic Trubus to see what he's like." He took up his night stick and started for the door. "I've spent too much time in here, even if it was at the captain's orders.
"You go for Trubus, Burke, with one of the men, while I will take the rest and close in on their 'Mercantile' office downstairs. We'll put that slave market out of business in three minutes." They were soon on Fifth Avenue. The elevators carried the policemen up to the third floor, and they sprang into the offices of the "Mercantile Association" with little ado.
The woman was brought in with the others of the gang who had been apprehended in the old house. "Now, Mr. Trubus, this woman rented from you and paid a very high rental. The man Shepard was killed in resisting arrest. We have rounded up Baxter, Craig, Madame Blanche and a dozen others of your employees. Have you anything to say?"
Bobbie stopped the taxicab which carried them half a block east of the office building which was their goal. "Mary, I will take this machine up on the floor above Trubus' office, and hide it in the hall. Then you go to your place in the office and I will manage a way to draw Mr. Trubus out in a hurry. We will work together after that, and spread the electric trap for him."
Suppose the Bishop had come in instead of myself? Would he consider such actions creditable to the great purpose for which the church takes up collections twice each year throughout his diocese?" Trubus tilted back and forth on his toes and tapped the ends of his plump fingers together. He was sparring for time.
"Just a minute, girlie, I'm interrupted." She turned to look at Bob again, and with a haughty toss of her rather startling yellow curls raised her eyebrows in a supercilious glance of interrogation. "What's your business?" "That's my business. I want to see Mr. Trubus and not you." "Well, nix on the sarcasm. He's too busy to be disturbed by every book agent and insurance peddler in town.
Trubus reddened, and tried to object. But his good wife overruled him. "Have you ever used a switchboard, miss?" he began. "Yes, sir. In my last position I began on the switchboard, and worked that way for nearly two months. I am sure I can do it." Trubus did not seem so optimistic. But, at his wife's silent argument looks more eloquent than a half hour of oratory, he nodded grudgingly.
"Where did you get him, Burke?" "He tried to make a quiet getaway through the rescue department of the Purity League," answered Officer 4434. "I nabbed him as he came up the fire-escape from this floor." "Where is Trubus?" "He has gone home, so one of the stenographers tells me." "Then we will get him, too. Hurry now. White, I leave you in charge of this place.
Softly she clambered down the fire-escape until she could peer through the window on the floor below. There at a desk, in the private office of the "Mercantile" association, sat the man who had been hugging her predecessor at Trubus' switchboard, the man who had exchanged the curious looks with the philanthropist.
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