It was on one of these festive occasions--not unlike, my readers may recall, my famous translation from college during my banquet at the Cambridge Tavern--that Fate struck me my first severe blow. My guests were still sitting at table while one of the ladies executed a fantastic dance amid the wine-glasses, when my butler touched me upon the arm and whispered that Mr. Gottlieb was outside and desired to see me on urgent business. Excusing myself, I hurried out, greeting my partner rather impatiently, as I disliked to be interrupted by business details in my hours of relaxation; but one sight of his weazened little hawk face sufficed to tell me that no trifling matter was at stake. He was in his day clothes, which were even more than ordinarily dishevelled, and his face, usually pale, was chalklike.
"Quibble," he cried in a rasping voice as soon as my man had gone, "our luck's turned! That woman has tricked us. She and Bunce went down to Crookshank's office and, under the pretext of looking for some deed or release, went through his papers and turned up some letters from Hawkins in regard to the original divorce proceedings. They've got one in which he admits being served by Bunce in the Astor House and asks Crookshank to appear for him. They've got another, written after Dillingham had fixed him, telling Crookshank to put in no defence. Yesterday she and Bunce went before the grand jury, who returned an indictment against Hawkins for perjury. Then she telegraphed him to come on to New York and meet her to arrange some money matters; and when he stepped off the train this afternoon he was arrested and taken to police head-quarters."
"My God!" I cried, turning quite faint. "What's to be done?"
"Get him out of the way as soon as possible!" answered Gottlieb, his lips trembling. "To-morrow morning he will be arraigned in the General Sessions. They are going to ask for fifty thousand dollars bail. We've got to have it. It's the only thing that stands between us and State prison, for they've got the goods on Hawkins and unless we see him safe he'll turn on us and help them send us up!"
"I've just come from head-quarters," he answered. "The fool had been drinking and had given up a lot of information already. So I frightened him until he agreed to shut up. They trouble is we gave him too much money. He says now that unless we protect him and keep him out of State prison he will give up the whole game to the district attorney. That would be fun, wouldn't it? The district attorney wouldn't waste much time on Arthur P. Hawkins if he could land Gottlieb & Quibble in jail for subornation of perjury, would he--eh? We've got to scratch gravel--and quick too!"