June 27, 2023 • 29 mins
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Espionage adventures, Covert operations, Thrilling missions, International intrigue, Spy thriller, Government agents, Undercover work, Secret intelligence, Political espionage, Intriguing conspiracies, High-stakes espionage, Intelligence gathering, Hidden identities, Espionage secrets, Political thrillers, Spy network, Secret missions, Classified operations, Intrigue and suspense, Government secrets
Espionage adventures, Covert operations, Thrilling missions, International intrigue, Spy thriller, Government agents, Undercover work, Secret intelligence, Political espionage, Intriguing conspiracies, High-stakes espionage, Intelligence gathering, Hidden identities, Espionage secrets, Political thrillers, Spy network, Secret missions, Classified operations, Intrigue and suspense, Government secrets
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Episode Transcript
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(00:00):
Chapter eighteen thirty thousand yards of Silk. I'd sure like to lead the life
of one of those fictional detective heroes, muttered Bill Quinn, formerly of the
United States Secret Service, as hetossed aside the last volume of crime stories
that had come to his attention.Nothing to do betrayal murderers and find the
(00:25):
person who lifted the diamond necklace andstuff of that kind. They never have
a case that isn't interesting, orfor that matter, one in which they
aren't successful. Must be a greatlife. But aren't the detective stories of
real life interesting and oftentimes exciting?I inquired, adding that those which Quinn
(00:49):
had already told me indicated that thecareer of a government operative was far from
being deadly monotonous. Some of themare, he admitted, but many of
them drag along for months or evenyears, sometimes petering out for pure lack
of evidence. Those, of course, are the cases you never hear of,
(01:11):
the ones where Uncle Sam's men falldown on the job. Oh yes,
they're fallible, all right. Theycan't solve every case any more than
a doctor can save the life ofevery patient he attends. But the percentage,
though high, doesn't approach the successof your Sherlock Holmeses and your thinking
(01:34):
machines, your Grice's and sweet Watersand Lecarques. How is it, then,
that every story you've told dealt withthe success of a government agent,
never with his failure, Quinn smiledreminiscently for a moment. Then what do
doctors do with their mistakes, heasked, They bury him. And that's
(01:59):
what any real detective will do,try to forget, except for hoping that
someday he'll run up against the manwho tricked him again. Most of the
yarns I've told you revolved around someof the relics of this room, waving
his hand to indicate the walls ofhis library, And these are all momentums
(02:22):
of successful cases. There's no usein keeping the other kind. Failures are
too common and brains too scarce.That bit of silk up there, Oh
yes, I interrupted, the onethat formed part of Alice Norcross's wedding dress
(02:44):
and figured in one of the mostsensational plots to defraud the government that was
ever uncovered, added Quinn. IfEzra Marks hadn't located that shipment, I
wouldn't have had that piece of silkand there wouldn't any story to tell.
So you see, it's really acircle after all. Marx Quinn went On
(03:08):
was one of the few men connectedwith any branch of the government organizations who
really lived up to the press agentnotices of the detectives you read about in
the first place. He looked likehe might have stepped out of a book,
big and long legged and lanky,a typical Yankee with all of the
(03:29):
New Englander's shrewdness and common sense.If you turned Ezra loose on a case,
you could be sure that he wouldn'tsit down and try to work it
out by deduction. Neither would heplunge in and attempt to buy sheer bravado
and gunplay to put the thing over. He'd mix the two methods and more
(03:51):
often than not come back with theanswer. Then two. Marx had the
very happy faculty of drawing assignments thatturned out to be interesting. Maybe it
was luck, but more than likelyit was because he followed plans that made
him so, preferring to wait untilhe had all the strings to a case
(04:15):
and then staged a big roundup ofthe people implicated. You remember the case
of the Englishman who smuggled uncut diamondsin the bowl of his pipe. And
the one you wrote under the titleof wah Lee and the Flower of Heaven,
Well, those were typical of Ezra'smethods. The first was almost entirely
(04:38):
analytical, the second mainly gun playplus a painstaking survey of the field he
had to cover. But when Marxwas notified that it was up to him
to find out who was running bigshipments of valuable silks across the Canadian border
without the formality of visiting the customhouse and making the customary pain he found
(05:00):
it advisable to combine the two courses. It was through a wholesale dealer in
silks in Seattle, Washington, thatthe Custom Service first learned of the arrival
of a considerable quantity of this valuablemerchandise offered through certain underground channels at a
price which clearly labeled it as smuggled. Possibly the dealer was peeved because he
(05:26):
didn't learn of the shipment in timeto secure any of it, but his
reasons for calling the affair to theattention of the Treasury Department don't really matter.
The main idea was that the silkwas there, that it hadn't paid
duty, and that someone ought tofind out how it happened. When a
second and then a third shipment wasreported, Marx was notified by wire to
(05:53):
get to Seattles fast as he couldand there to confer with the collector of
the port. It wasn't until afterhe had arrived that Ezra knew what the
trouble was, for the story ofthe smuggled silk hadn't penetrated as far south
as San Francisco, where he hadbeen engaged in trying to find a cargo
(06:14):
of smuggled coolies. Here's a sampleof the silk, announced the collector of
the port at Seattle, producing apiece of very heavy material, evidently of
foreign manufacture. Beyond the fact thatwe've spotted three of the shipments and know
where to lay our hands on themif wanted, I've got to admit that
(06:36):
we don't know a thing about thecase. The Department, of course,
doesn't want us to trace the silkfrom this end. The minute you do
that, you lay yourself open toall sorts of legal tangles and delays,
to say nothing of giving the otherside plenty of time to frame up a
case that would sound mighty good incourt. Besides, I haven't enough men
(07:01):
to handle the job in the shortspace of time necessary, So you'll have
to dig into it and find outwho got the stuff in and how.
Then we'll attend to the fences who'vebeen handling it here, the old game
of passing the buck, thought Ezraas he fingered the sample of silk,
(07:23):
meditatively, I'll do the work andthey'll get the glory. Oh well,
any idea of where the shipment's camefrom, he inquired. There's no doubt
but that it's of Japanese manufacture,which of course would appear to point to
a shipping conspiracy of some nature.But I hardly think that's true here.
(07:48):
Already eighteen bolts of silk have beenreported in Seattle, and as you know,
that's a pretty good sized consignment.You couldn't stuff him into a pill
box or carry him inside a walkingstick like you could diamonds. Whoever's handling
this job is doing it across theborder rather than via the shipping route.
(08:13):
No chance of us slip up inyour information, as their chief, Ezra
inquired, anxiously, I'd hate tostart combing the border and then find that
the stuff was being slipped in throughthe port. No, and the Collector
of Customs was positive in his reply, I'm not taking a chance on that
tip. I know what I'm talkingabout. My men have been watching the
(08:39):
shipping like hawks ever since that consignmentof antique ivory got through last year.
We've gone over every vessel with amicroscope, probing the mattresses, and even
pawing around in the coal bins.I'm positive that there isn't a place big
enough to conceal a yard of silkthat the always haven't looked into, to
(09:01):
say nothing of eighteen bolts. Besides, added the collector, the arrival of
the silk hasn't coincided with the arrivalof any of the ships from Japan,
not by any stretch of the imagination. All right, I'll take up the
trail northward, then replied Marx.Don't be surprised if you fail to hear
(09:24):
from me for a couple of monthsor more. If Washington inquires, tell
them that I'm up on the bordersomewhere, and let it go at that.
Going to take anybody with you,not a soul except maybe a guide
that I'll pick up when I needhim. If there is a concerted movement
to ship silk across the line,and it appears that there is. The
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more men you have working with you, the less chance there is for success.
Border Runners are like moonshiners. They'renot afraid of one man, but
if they see a posse, theyrun for cover and keep out of sight
until the storm blows over. Andthere isn't one chance in a thousand of
(10:09):
finding a Meanwhile, you've got toplay them just like you would a fish.
So the next time you hear fromme, you will know that I've
either landed my sharks or that they'veslipped off the hook. It was about
a month later that the little townof Northport, up in the extreme northeastern
corner of Washington, awoke to finda stranger in its midst Strangers were something
(10:35):
of a novelty in Northport, andthis one, a man named Marx,
who stated that he was prospecting forsome good lumber, caused quite a bit
of talk for a day or two. Then the town gossips discovered that he
was not working in the interest ofa large company, as had been rumored,
(10:56):
but slowly on his own hook.So they left him merely alone.
Besides it was the height of thelogging season, and there was too much
work to be done along the ColumbiaRiver to worry about strangers. Marx hadn't
taken this into consideration when he nearedthe eastern part of the state, but
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he was just as well pleased.If logs and logging served to center the
attention of the natives elsewhere, somuch the better. It would give him
greater opportunity for observation and possibly thechance to pick up some information. Up
to this time, his trip alongthe border had been singularly uneventful and lacking
(11:39):
in results. In fact, itwas practically a toss up with him whether
he would continue on into Idaho andMontana on the hope that he would find
something there, or go back toSeattle and start fresh. However, he
figured that it wouldn't do any harmto spend a week or two in the
(12:00):
neighborhood of the Columbia, and asevents turned out, it was a very
wise move, partly out of curiosityand partly because it was in keeping with
his self assumed character of lumber prospector. Marx made a point of joining the
gangs of men who worked all dayand sometimes long into the night, keeping
(12:22):
the river clear of log jams,and otherwise assisting in the movement of timber
downstream. Like everyone who views theseoperations for the first time, he marveled
at the dexterity of the loggers,who perched upon the treacherous, slippery trunks
with as little thought for danger asif they had been crossing a country road.
(12:46):
But their years of familiarity with thecurrent and the logs themselves had given
them a sense of balance which appearedto inure them to peril. Nor was
this ability to ride logs confined whollyto the men. Some of the girls
from the nearby country often worked inwith the men, handling the lighter jobs
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and attending to details which did notcall for the possession of a great amount
of strength. One of these marksnoted was particularly proficient in her work.
Apparently there wasn't a man in Northportwho could give her points in a log
riding, and the very fact thatshe was small and wiry provided her with
(13:31):
a distinct advantage over men who weretwice her weight. Apart from her grace
and beauty, there was something extremelyappealing about the girl, and Ezra found
himself watching her time after time,as she almost danced across the swirling,
bark covered trunks, hardly seeming totouch them as she moved. The girl
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was by no means oblivious to thestranger's interest in her ability to handle at
least a part of the men's work. She caught his eye the very first
day he came down to the river, and after that, whenever she noted
that he was present. She seemedto take a new delight in skipping lightly
from log to log, lingering oneach just long enough to cause it to
(14:18):
spin dangerously, and then leaping tothe next. But one afternoon she tried
the trick once too often. Eithershe miscalculated her distance, or a sudden
swirl of the current carried the logfor which she was aiming out of her
path. For her foot just touchedit, slipped, and before she could
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recover her balance, she was inthe water, surrounded by logs that threatened
to crush the life out of herat any moment. Startled by her cry
for help, three of the lumbermenstarted toward her, but the river,
like a thing alive, appeared tothwart their efforts by opening up a rift
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in the jam on either side.Leaving a gap too wide to be leaped
and a current too strong to berisked by men who were hampered by their
heavy, hobnailed shoes. Marx,who had been watching the girl, had
his coat off almost as soon asshe hit the water. An instant later,
he had discarded his shoes and hadplunged in, breasting the river with
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long, overhand strokes that carried himforward at an almost unbelievable speed. Before
the men and the logs knew whatwas happening. The operative was beside the
girl, using one hand to keepher head above water and the other to
fend off the logs, which wereclosing in from every side. Quick he
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called a rope, but the trunkof a tree, striking his head a
glancing blow cut short his cry andforced him to devote every atom of his
strength to remaining afloat until assistance arrived. After an interval which appeared to be
measuring hours rather than seconds, arope splashed within reach, and the pair
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were hauled to safety. The girl, apparently unhurt by her drenching, shook
herself like a wet spaniel, andthen turned to where Marx was seated,
trying to recover his breath. Thanks, she said, extending her hand.
I don't know who you are,stranger, but you're a man. It
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wasn't anything to make a fuss about, returned Ezra, rising and turning suspiciously
red around the ears, for itwas the first time that a girl had
spoken to him in that way formore years than he cared to remember.
Then, with the Vermont drawl thatalways came to the surface when he was
excited or embarrassed, he added,it was worth getting wet to have you
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speak like that. This time itwas the girl who flushed, and with
a palpable effort to cover her confusion, she turned away, stopping to call
back over her shoulder. If you'llcome up to Dad's place tonight, I'll
see that you're properly thanked. Dad'splace, repeated Ezra to one of the
(17:21):
men nearby. Where's that? Shemeans her stepfather's house up the river,
replied the lumberman. You can't missit, just this side of the border.
Ask anybody where old man Peterson lives, Though the directions were rather vague.
Marks started up the river shortly beforesunset and found but little difficulty in
(17:47):
locating the big house half bungalow andhalf cabin, where Peterson and his stepdaughter
resided, in company with half adozen foremen of lumber gangs and an Indian
woman who had acted as nurse andchaperone and cook and general servant ever since
the death of the girl's mother anumber of years before. While he was
(18:10):
still stumbling along trying to pierce thegloom, which settled almost instantly after sunset,
Marx was startled to see a whitefigure rise suddenly before him, and
to hear a feminine voice remark,I wondered if you'd come, didn't you
know I would, replied Ezra.Your spill in the river had me scared
(18:33):
stiff for a moment, but itwas a mighty lucky accident for me.
At the girl's suggestion, they seatedthemselves outside, being joined before long by
Peterson himself, who, with morethan a trace of his Slavic ancestry apparently
in his voice, thanked Marx forrescuing his daughter. It was when the
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older man left them, and thegirl's figure was outlined with startling distinctness by
the light from the open door,that Ezra received a shock which brought him
to earth with a crash in thesemi darkness. He had been merely aware
that the girl was wearing a dresswhich he would have characterized as something white,
(19:19):
But once he saw her standing inthe center of the path of light
which streamed from the interior of thehouse, there could be no mistake.
The dress was of white silk.More than that, it was made from
material which Marks would have sworn hadbeen cut from the same bolt as the
sample which the collector had shown himin Seattle. What's the matter, mister
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Marks, inquired the girl, evidentlynoting the surprise which Ezra was unable completely
to suppress. Seen a ghost orsomething, I thought, for a moment
I had, was the operatives reply, as he played for time. It
must be your dress. My sisterhad one just like at once. It's
(20:10):
rather pretty, isn't it. Inspite of the fact that I made it
myself out of some silk that dadthat Dad brought home, Ezra thought it
best to change the subject, andas soon as he could find the opportunity,
said good night, with a promiseto be on hand the next day
to see that the plunge in theriver wasn't repeated. But the next morning
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he kept as far away from thegirl Fay Peterson as he could without appearing
to make a point of the matter. He had thought the whole thing over
from every angle, and his conclusionwas always the same. The Petersons were
either hand in glove with the gangthat was running the silk across the border,
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or they were doing the smuggling themselves. The lonely cabin, the proximity
to the boarder, the air ofrestraint, which he had noted the previous
evening, based principally upon the factthat he had not been invited indoors the
silk dress. All were signs whichpointed at least to a knowledge of the
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plot to beat the customs. Morethan that, when Marx commenced to make
some guarded inquiries about the family ofthe girl whom he had saved from drowning,
he met with a decidedly cool reception. Old man Peterson has some big
loggin interests in these parts, declaredthe most locacious of his informants, and
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they say he's made a pile ofmoney in the last few months. Some
say it's timber, and others sayit's moell. It ain't nobody's concern,
how A man makes a living inthese parts so long as he behaves himself.
Isn't Peterson behaving himself? Asked asrustranger was the reply, it ain't
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always healthy to pry into another man'saffairs. Better be satisfied with going to
see the girl. That's more thananybody around here is allowed to do.
So. There was an air ofmystery about the Peterson house. After all,
Marx thought it hadn't been his imaginationor an idea founded solely upon the
(22:27):
sight of the silk dress. Thenext fortnight found the operative a constant and
apparently a welcome visitor at the houseup the river. But hint as he
might, he was never asked indoors, a fact that made him all the
more determined to see what was goingon. While he solaced himself with the
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thought that his visits were made strictlyin the line of duty, that his
only purpose was to discover Peterson's connectionwith the smuggled silk, Ezra was unable
entirely to stifle another feeling, somethingwhich he hadn't known since the old days
in Vermont, when the announcement ofa girl's wedding to another man had caused
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him to leave home and seek hisfortunes in Boston. Fay Peterson was pretty,
there was no denying that fact.Also, she was very evidently prepossessed
in favor of the man who hadsaved her from the river. But this
fact, instead of soothing Marx's conscience, only irritated it the more. Here
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he was on the verge of makinglove to a girl, really in love
with her, as he admitted tohimself, and at the same time planning
and hoping to send her stepfather tothe penitentiary. He had hoped that the
fact that Peterson was not her ownfather might make things a little easier for
him, but the girl had shownin a number of ways that she was
(24:00):
just as fond of her foster parentas she would have been of her own.
He's all the daddy I ever knew, she said one night, and
if anything ever happened to him,I think it would drive me crazy,
which fell far short of easing Ezra'smind, though it strengthened his determination to
settle the matter definitely. The nextevening that he visited the Peterson's, he'd
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left a little earlier than usual andonly followed the road back to Northport sufficiently
far to make certain that he wasnot being trailed. Then, retracing his
steps, he approached the house fromthe rear, his soft moccasins moving silently
across the ground. His figure croucheduntil he appeared little more than a shadow
(24:48):
between the trees. Just as hereached the clearing which separated the dwelling from
the woods, he stumbled and almostfell. His foot had caught against something
which felt like the trunk of afallen tree, but which moved with an
ease entirely foreign to a log ofthat size. Puzzled marks weighted until a
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cloud which had concealed the moon haddrifted by, and then commenced his examination.
Yes, it was a log,and a big one, still damp
from its immersion in the river.But it was so light that he could
lift it unaided, and it rangto a rap from his knuckles. The
(25:33):
end which he first examined was solid, but at the other end the log
was a mere shell, not morethan an inch of wood remaining inside the
bark. It was not until hediscovered a round plug of wood, a
stopper, which fitted precisely into theopen end of the log, that the
solution of the whole mystery dawned uponhim. The silk had been shipped across
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the order from Canada inside the trunksof trees hollowed out for the purpose.
Wrapping the bolts in oiled silk wouldkeep them perfectly waterproof, and the plan
was so simple as to be imperviousto detection save by accident. Emboldened by
his discovery, Marks slipped silently acrossthe cleared space to the shadow of the
(26:25):
house, and thence around to theside, where a few cautious cuts of
his bowie knife opened a peepole inthe shutter which covered the window. Through
this he saw what he had hopedfor, yet feared to find Peterson and
three of his men packing bolts ofwhite silk in boxes for reshipment. What
(26:48):
was more, he caught snatches oftheir conversation which told him that another consignment
of the smuggled goods was due fromtrail just across the border within the week.
Retreating as noiselessly as he had come, Marx made his way back to
Northport, where he wrote two letters, or rather a letter and a note.
(27:11):
The first, addressed to the sheriff, directed that personage to collect a
posse and report to Ezra Marks ofthe Custom Service. On the second day
following this was forwarded by special messenger, but Marx pocketed the note and slipped
it cautiously under the door of thePeterson house the next evening. It's a
(27:36):
fifty fifty split, he consoled hisconscience. The government gets the silk and
the Petersons get their warning. Idon't suppose I'll get anything but the devil
for not landing them. The nextmorning, when the sheriff and his posse
arrived, they found only an emptyhouse, but in the main room,
(27:57):
where piled boxes continued, no lessthan thirty thousand yards of white silk,
valued at something over one hundred thousanddollars. On top of the boxes was
an envelope addressed to Ezra Marks esquire, and within it a note which read,
(28:17):
I don't know who you are,mister customs officer, but you're a
man. There was no signature,but the writing was distinctly feminine. And
was that all Marks ever heard fromher? I asked when Quinn paused,
So far as I know, saidthe former operative. Of course Washington never
(28:41):
heard about that part of the case. They were too well satisfied with Ezra's
Hall and the incoming cargo, whichthey also landed to care much about the
Petersons, so the whole thing wasentered on Marx's record precisely as he had
figured it, a fifty fifty split. You see, even government agents aren't
(29:03):
always completely successful, especially when they'refighting Cupid as well as crooks. End
of Chapter eighteen
Chapter eighteen thirty thousand yards of Silk. I'd sure like to lead the life
of one of those fictional detective heroes, muttered Bill Quinn, formerly of the
United States Secret Service, as hetossed aside the last volume of crime stories
that had come to his attention.Nothing to do betrayal murderers and find the
(00:25):
person who lifted the diamond necklace andstuff of that kind. They never have
a case that isn't interesting, orfor that matter, one in which they
aren't successful. Must be a greatlife. But aren't the detective stories of
real life interesting and oftentimes exciting?I inquired, adding that those which Quinn
(00:49):
had already told me indicated that thecareer of a government operative was far from
being deadly monotonous. Some of themare, he admitted, but many of
them drag along for months or evenyears, sometimes petering out for pure lack
of evidence. Those, of course, are the cases you never hear of,
(01:11):
the ones where Uncle Sam's men falldown on the job. Oh yes,
they're fallible, all right. Theycan't solve every case any more than
a doctor can save the life ofevery patient he attends. But the percentage,
though high, doesn't approach the successof your Sherlock Holmeses and your thinking
(01:34):
machines, your Grice's and sweet Watersand Lecarques. How is it, then,
that every story you've told dealt withthe success of a government agent,
never with his failure, Quinn smiledreminiscently for a moment. Then what do
doctors do with their mistakes, heasked, They bury him. And that's
(01:59):
what any real detective will do,try to forget, except for hoping that
someday he'll run up against the manwho tricked him again. Most of the
yarns I've told you revolved around someof the relics of this room, waving
his hand to indicate the walls ofhis library, And these are all momentums
(02:22):
of successful cases. There's no usein keeping the other kind. Failures are
too common and brains too scarce.That bit of silk up there, Oh
yes, I interrupted, the onethat formed part of Alice Norcross's wedding dress
(02:44):
and figured in one of the mostsensational plots to defraud the government that was
ever uncovered, added Quinn. IfEzra Marks hadn't located that shipment, I
wouldn't have had that piece of silkand there wouldn't any story to tell.
So you see, it's really acircle after all. Marx Quinn went On
(03:08):
was one of the few men connectedwith any branch of the government organizations who
really lived up to the press agentnotices of the detectives you read about in
the first place. He looked likehe might have stepped out of a book,
big and long legged and lanky,a typical Yankee with all of the
(03:29):
New Englander's shrewdness and common sense.If you turned Ezra loose on a case,
you could be sure that he wouldn'tsit down and try to work it
out by deduction. Neither would heplunge in and attempt to buy sheer bravado
and gunplay to put the thing over. He'd mix the two methods and more
(03:51):
often than not come back with theanswer. Then two. Marx had the
very happy faculty of drawing assignments thatturned out to be interesting. Maybe it
was luck, but more than likelyit was because he followed plans that made
him so, preferring to wait untilhe had all the strings to a case
(04:15):
and then staged a big roundup ofthe people implicated. You remember the case
of the Englishman who smuggled uncut diamondsin the bowl of his pipe. And
the one you wrote under the titleof wah Lee and the Flower of Heaven,
Well, those were typical of Ezra'smethods. The first was almost entirely
(04:38):
analytical, the second mainly gun playplus a painstaking survey of the field he
had to cover. But when Marxwas notified that it was up to him
to find out who was running bigshipments of valuable silks across the Canadian border
without the formality of visiting the customhouse and making the customary pain he found
(05:00):
it advisable to combine the two courses. It was through a wholesale dealer in
silks in Seattle, Washington, thatthe Custom Service first learned of the arrival
of a considerable quantity of this valuablemerchandise offered through certain underground channels at a
price which clearly labeled it as smuggled. Possibly the dealer was peeved because he
(05:26):
didn't learn of the shipment in timeto secure any of it, but his
reasons for calling the affair to theattention of the Treasury Department don't really matter.
The main idea was that the silkwas there, that it hadn't paid
duty, and that someone ought tofind out how it happened. When a
second and then a third shipment wasreported, Marx was notified by wire to
(05:53):
get to Seattles fast as he couldand there to confer with the collector of
the port. It wasn't until afterhe had arrived that Ezra knew what the
trouble was, for the story ofthe smuggled silk hadn't penetrated as far south
as San Francisco, where he hadbeen engaged in trying to find a cargo
(06:14):
of smuggled coolies. Here's a sampleof the silk, announced the collector of
the port at Seattle, producing apiece of very heavy material, evidently of
foreign manufacture. Beyond the fact thatwe've spotted three of the shipments and know
where to lay our hands on themif wanted, I've got to admit that
(06:36):
we don't know a thing about thecase. The Department, of course,
doesn't want us to trace the silkfrom this end. The minute you do
that, you lay yourself open toall sorts of legal tangles and delays,
to say nothing of giving the otherside plenty of time to frame up a
case that would sound mighty good incourt. Besides, I haven't enough men
(07:01):
to handle the job in the shortspace of time necessary, So you'll have
to dig into it and find outwho got the stuff in and how.
Then we'll attend to the fences who'vebeen handling it here, the old game
of passing the buck, thought Ezraas he fingered the sample of silk,
(07:23):
meditatively, I'll do the work andthey'll get the glory. Oh well,
any idea of where the shipment's camefrom, he inquired. There's no doubt
but that it's of Japanese manufacture,which of course would appear to point to
a shipping conspiracy of some nature.But I hardly think that's true here.
(07:48):
Already eighteen bolts of silk have beenreported in Seattle, and as you know,
that's a pretty good sized consignment.You couldn't stuff him into a pill
box or carry him inside a walkingstick like you could diamonds. Whoever's handling
this job is doing it across theborder rather than via the shipping route.
(08:13):
No chance of us slip up inyour information, as their chief, Ezra
inquired, anxiously, I'd hate tostart combing the border and then find that
the stuff was being slipped in throughthe port. No, and the Collector
of Customs was positive in his reply, I'm not taking a chance on that
tip. I know what I'm talkingabout. My men have been watching the
(08:39):
shipping like hawks ever since that consignmentof antique ivory got through last year.
We've gone over every vessel with amicroscope, probing the mattresses, and even
pawing around in the coal bins.I'm positive that there isn't a place big
enough to conceal a yard of silkthat the always haven't looked into, to
(09:01):
say nothing of eighteen bolts. Besides, added the collector, the arrival of
the silk hasn't coincided with the arrivalof any of the ships from Japan,
not by any stretch of the imagination. All right, I'll take up the
trail northward, then replied Marx.Don't be surprised if you fail to hear
(09:24):
from me for a couple of monthsor more. If Washington inquires, tell
them that I'm up on the bordersomewhere, and let it go at that.
Going to take anybody with you,not a soul except maybe a guide
that I'll pick up when I needhim. If there is a concerted movement
to ship silk across the line,and it appears that there is. The
(09:48):
more men you have working with you, the less chance there is for success.
Border Runners are like moonshiners. They'renot afraid of one man, but
if they see a posse, theyrun for cover and keep out of sight
until the storm blows over. Andthere isn't one chance in a thousand of
(10:09):
finding a Meanwhile, you've got toplay them just like you would a fish.
So the next time you hear fromme, you will know that I've
either landed my sharks or that they'veslipped off the hook. It was about
a month later that the little townof Northport, up in the extreme northeastern
corner of Washington, awoke to finda stranger in its midst Strangers were something
(10:35):
of a novelty in Northport, andthis one, a man named Marx,
who stated that he was prospecting forsome good lumber, caused quite a bit
of talk for a day or two. Then the town gossips discovered that he
was not working in the interest ofa large company, as had been rumored,
(10:56):
but slowly on his own hook.So they left him merely alone.
Besides it was the height of thelogging season, and there was too much
work to be done along the ColumbiaRiver to worry about strangers. Marx hadn't
taken this into consideration when he nearedthe eastern part of the state, but
(11:16):
he was just as well pleased.If logs and logging served to center the
attention of the natives elsewhere, somuch the better. It would give him
greater opportunity for observation and possibly thechance to pick up some information. Up
to this time, his trip alongthe border had been singularly uneventful and lacking
(11:39):
in results. In fact, itwas practically a toss up with him whether
he would continue on into Idaho andMontana on the hope that he would find
something there, or go back toSeattle and start fresh. However, he
figured that it wouldn't do any harmto spend a week or two in the
(12:00):
neighborhood of the Columbia, and asevents turned out, it was a very
wise move, partly out of curiosityand partly because it was in keeping with
his self assumed character of lumber prospector. Marx made a point of joining the
gangs of men who worked all dayand sometimes long into the night, keeping
(12:22):
the river clear of log jams,and otherwise assisting in the movement of timber
downstream. Like everyone who views theseoperations for the first time, he marveled
at the dexterity of the loggers,who perched upon the treacherous, slippery trunks
with as little thought for danger asif they had been crossing a country road.
(12:46):
But their years of familiarity with thecurrent and the logs themselves had given
them a sense of balance which appearedto inure them to peril. Nor was
this ability to ride logs confined whollyto the men. Some of the girls
from the nearby country often worked inwith the men, handling the lighter jobs
(13:09):
and attending to details which did notcall for the possession of a great amount
of strength. One of these marksnoted was particularly proficient in her work.
Apparently there wasn't a man in Northportwho could give her points in a log
riding, and the very fact thatshe was small and wiry provided her with
(13:31):
a distinct advantage over men who weretwice her weight. Apart from her grace
and beauty, there was something extremelyappealing about the girl, and Ezra found
himself watching her time after time,as she almost danced across the swirling,
bark covered trunks, hardly seeming totouch them as she moved. The girl
(13:54):
was by no means oblivious to thestranger's interest in her ability to handle at
least a part of the men's work. She caught his eye the very first
day he came down to the river, and after that, whenever she noted
that he was present. She seemedto take a new delight in skipping lightly
from log to log, lingering oneach just long enough to cause it to
(14:18):
spin dangerously, and then leaping tothe next. But one afternoon she tried
the trick once too often. Eithershe miscalculated her distance, or a sudden
swirl of the current carried the logfor which she was aiming out of her
path. For her foot just touchedit, slipped, and before she could
(14:39):
recover her balance, she was inthe water, surrounded by logs that threatened
to crush the life out of herat any moment. Startled by her cry
for help, three of the lumbermenstarted toward her, but the river,
like a thing alive, appeared tothwart their efforts by opening up a rift
(15:00):
in the jam on either side.Leaving a gap too wide to be leaped
and a current too strong to berisked by men who were hampered by their
heavy, hobnailed shoes. Marx,who had been watching the girl, had
his coat off almost as soon asshe hit the water. An instant later,
he had discarded his shoes and hadplunged in, breasting the river with
(15:24):
long, overhand strokes that carried himforward at an almost unbelievable speed. Before
the men and the logs knew whatwas happening. The operative was beside the
girl, using one hand to keepher head above water and the other to
fend off the logs, which wereclosing in from every side. Quick he
(15:48):
called a rope, but the trunkof a tree, striking his head a
glancing blow cut short his cry andforced him to devote every atom of his
strength to remaining afloat until assistance arrived. After an interval which appeared to be
measuring hours rather than seconds, arope splashed within reach, and the pair
(16:11):
were hauled to safety. The girl, apparently unhurt by her drenching, shook
herself like a wet spaniel, andthen turned to where Marx was seated,
trying to recover his breath. Thanks, she said, extending her hand.
I don't know who you are,stranger, but you're a man. It
(16:34):
wasn't anything to make a fuss about, returned Ezra, rising and turning suspiciously
red around the ears, for itwas the first time that a girl had
spoken to him in that way formore years than he cared to remember.
Then, with the Vermont drawl thatalways came to the surface when he was
excited or embarrassed, he added,it was worth getting wet to have you
(16:59):
speak like that. This time itwas the girl who flushed, and with
a palpable effort to cover her confusion, she turned away, stopping to call
back over her shoulder. If you'llcome up to Dad's place tonight, I'll
see that you're properly thanked. Dad'splace, repeated Ezra to one of the
(17:21):
men nearby. Where's that? Shemeans her stepfather's house up the river,
replied the lumberman. You can't missit, just this side of the border.
Ask anybody where old man Peterson lives, Though the directions were rather vague.
Marks started up the river shortly beforesunset and found but little difficulty in
(17:47):
locating the big house half bungalow andhalf cabin, where Peterson and his stepdaughter
resided, in company with half adozen foremen of lumber gangs and an Indian
woman who had acted as nurse andchaperone and cook and general servant ever since
the death of the girl's mother anumber of years before. While he was
(18:10):
still stumbling along trying to pierce thegloom, which settled almost instantly after sunset,
Marx was startled to see a whitefigure rise suddenly before him, and
to hear a feminine voice remark,I wondered if you'd come, didn't you
know I would, replied Ezra.Your spill in the river had me scared
(18:33):
stiff for a moment, but itwas a mighty lucky accident for me.
At the girl's suggestion, they seatedthemselves outside, being joined before long by
Peterson himself, who, with morethan a trace of his Slavic ancestry apparently
in his voice, thanked Marx forrescuing his daughter. It was when the
(18:56):
older man left them, and thegirl's figure was outlined with startling distinctness by
the light from the open door,that Ezra received a shock which brought him
to earth with a crash in thesemi darkness. He had been merely aware
that the girl was wearing a dresswhich he would have characterized as something white,
(19:19):
But once he saw her standing inthe center of the path of light
which streamed from the interior of thehouse, there could be no mistake.
The dress was of white silk.More than that, it was made from
material which Marks would have sworn hadbeen cut from the same bolt as the
sample which the collector had shown himin Seattle. What's the matter, mister
(19:44):
Marks, inquired the girl, evidentlynoting the surprise which Ezra was unable completely
to suppress. Seen a ghost orsomething, I thought, for a moment
I had, was the operatives reply, as he played for time. It
must be your dress. My sisterhad one just like at once. It's
(20:10):
rather pretty, isn't it. Inspite of the fact that I made it
myself out of some silk that dadthat Dad brought home, Ezra thought it
best to change the subject, andas soon as he could find the opportunity,
said good night, with a promiseto be on hand the next day
to see that the plunge in theriver wasn't repeated. But the next morning
(20:34):
he kept as far away from thegirl Fay Peterson as he could without appearing
to make a point of the matter. He had thought the whole thing over
from every angle, and his conclusionwas always the same. The Petersons were
either hand in glove with the gangthat was running the silk across the border,
(20:56):
or they were doing the smuggling themselves. The lonely cabin, the proximity
to the boarder, the air ofrestraint, which he had noted the previous
evening, based principally upon the factthat he had not been invited indoors the
silk dress. All were signs whichpointed at least to a knowledge of the
(21:18):
plot to beat the customs. Morethan that, when Marx commenced to make
some guarded inquiries about the family ofthe girl whom he had saved from drowning,
he met with a decidedly cool reception. Old man Peterson has some big
loggin interests in these parts, declaredthe most locacious of his informants, and
(21:41):
they say he's made a pile ofmoney in the last few months. Some
say it's timber, and others sayit's moell. It ain't nobody's concern,
how A man makes a living inthese parts so long as he behaves himself.
Isn't Peterson behaving himself? Asked asrustranger was the reply, it ain't
(22:03):
always healthy to pry into another man'saffairs. Better be satisfied with going to
see the girl. That's more thananybody around here is allowed to do.
So. There was an air ofmystery about the Peterson house. After all,
Marx thought it hadn't been his imaginationor an idea founded solely upon the
(22:27):
sight of the silk dress. Thenext fortnight found the operative a constant and
apparently a welcome visitor at the houseup the river. But hint as he
might, he was never asked indoors, a fact that made him all the
more determined to see what was goingon. While he solaced himself with the
(22:51):
thought that his visits were made strictlyin the line of duty, that his
only purpose was to discover Peterson's connectionwith the smuggled silk, Ezra was unable
entirely to stifle another feeling, somethingwhich he hadn't known since the old days
in Vermont, when the announcement ofa girl's wedding to another man had caused
(23:11):
him to leave home and seek hisfortunes in Boston. Fay Peterson was pretty,
there was no denying that fact.Also, she was very evidently prepossessed
in favor of the man who hadsaved her from the river. But this
fact, instead of soothing Marx's conscience, only irritated it the more. Here
(23:37):
he was on the verge of makinglove to a girl, really in love
with her, as he admitted tohimself, and at the same time planning
and hoping to send her stepfather tothe penitentiary. He had hoped that the
fact that Peterson was not her ownfather might make things a little easier for
him, but the girl had shownin a number of ways that she was
(24:00):
just as fond of her foster parentas she would have been of her own.
He's all the daddy I ever knew, she said one night, and
if anything ever happened to him,I think it would drive me crazy,
which fell far short of easing Ezra'smind, though it strengthened his determination to
settle the matter definitely. The nextevening that he visited the Peterson's, he'd
(24:26):
left a little earlier than usual andonly followed the road back to Northport sufficiently
far to make certain that he wasnot being trailed. Then, retracing his
steps, he approached the house fromthe rear, his soft moccasins moving silently
across the ground. His figure croucheduntil he appeared little more than a shadow
(24:48):
between the trees. Just as hereached the clearing which separated the dwelling from
the woods, he stumbled and almostfell. His foot had caught against something
which felt like the trunk of afallen tree, but which moved with an
ease entirely foreign to a log ofthat size. Puzzled marks weighted until a
(25:11):
cloud which had concealed the moon haddrifted by, and then commenced his examination.
Yes, it was a log,and a big one, still damp
from its immersion in the river.But it was so light that he could
lift it unaided, and it rangto a rap from his knuckles. The
(25:33):
end which he first examined was solid, but at the other end the log
was a mere shell, not morethan an inch of wood remaining inside the
bark. It was not until hediscovered a round plug of wood, a
stopper, which fitted precisely into theopen end of the log, that the
solution of the whole mystery dawned uponhim. The silk had been shipped across
(25:59):
the order from Canada inside the trunksof trees hollowed out for the purpose.
Wrapping the bolts in oiled silk wouldkeep them perfectly waterproof, and the plan
was so simple as to be imperviousto detection save by accident. Emboldened by
his discovery, Marks slipped silently acrossthe cleared space to the shadow of the
(26:25):
house, and thence around to theside, where a few cautious cuts of
his bowie knife opened a peepole inthe shutter which covered the window. Through
this he saw what he had hopedfor, yet feared to find Peterson and
three of his men packing bolts ofwhite silk in boxes for reshipment. What
(26:48):
was more, he caught snatches oftheir conversation which told him that another consignment
of the smuggled goods was due fromtrail just across the border within the week.
Retreating as noiselessly as he had come, Marx made his way back to
Northport, where he wrote two letters, or rather a letter and a note.
(27:11):
The first, addressed to the sheriff, directed that personage to collect a
posse and report to Ezra Marks ofthe Custom Service. On the second day
following this was forwarded by special messenger, but Marx pocketed the note and slipped
it cautiously under the door of thePeterson house the next evening. It's a
(27:36):
fifty fifty split, he consoled hisconscience. The government gets the silk and
the Petersons get their warning. Idon't suppose I'll get anything but the devil
for not landing them. The nextmorning, when the sheriff and his posse
arrived, they found only an emptyhouse, but in the main room,
(27:57):
where piled boxes continued, no lessthan thirty thousand yards of white silk,
valued at something over one hundred thousanddollars. On top of the boxes was
an envelope addressed to Ezra Marks esquire, and within it a note which read,
(28:17):
I don't know who you are,mister customs officer, but you're a
man. There was no signature,but the writing was distinctly feminine. And
was that all Marks ever heard fromher? I asked when Quinn paused,
So far as I know, saidthe former operative. Of course Washington never
(28:41):
heard about that part of the case. They were too well satisfied with Ezra's
Hall and the incoming cargo, whichthey also landed to care much about the
Petersons, so the whole thing wasentered on Marx's record precisely as he had
figured it, a fifty fifty split. You see, even government agents aren't
(29:03):
always completely successful, especially when they'refighting Cupid as well as crooks. End
of Chapter eighteen
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