Guilt of the Brass Thieves Part 9

CHAPTER 7 _NIGHT s.h.i.+FT WORKER_

"I detest a stool pigeon," said Mr. Gandiss after Joe the Sweeper had slouched away. "However, his information may be valuable. I can't afford not to investigate it."

Not wis.h.i.+ng to attract comment from the other employes, the factory owner made no attempt to see the girl under suspicion. Instead, he escorted the party to his private office. Ringing a buzzer, he asked one of the foremen to bring the operator of Machine 567 to him.

Presently she came in, a thin, wiry girl in ill-fitting blue slacks and sweater. Her hair was bound beneath a dark net and she wore goggles. As she faced Mr. Gandiss, she removed the latter. Everyone stared.

For the girl was Sally Barker.

"You sent for me, Mr. Gandiss?" Subdued and embarra.s.sed, her eyes roved from one person to another.

"Why, Sally," said the factory owner in astonishment. "I had no idea you were working here on the night s.h.i.+ft. When were you employed?"

"A week ago."

Perplexed, Mr. Gandiss stared at the girl's factory badge. There could be no mistake. Plainly it bore the number 567.

"You like the work?" he asked after an awkward silence.

"Not very well," she confessed truthfully. "However, I can use the pay I receive."

"During the daytime I believe you help your father aboard the _River Queen_," Mr. Gandiss resumed, trying to be friendly. "Rather a strenuous program. When do you sleep?"

"Oh, I get enough rest." Sally spoke indifferently, though her eyes were red and she looked tired. "Pop didn't want me to take the job, but I have a special use for the money."

"Pretty clothes, I suppose--or perhaps a new sailboat?"

"A college education."

Mr. Gandiss nodded approvingly, and then, recalling the serious charge against the girl, became formal again. "You wonder why I sent for you?"

"I know my work hasn't been very good. I've tried, but I keep ruining materials."

This gave Mr. Gandiss the opening he sought. "What do you do with the discarded pieces?" he inquired.

"Why, I just throw them aside." The question plainly puzzled Sally.

"You may have heard that we are having a little trouble here at the factory."

"What sort of trouble, Mr. Gandiss?"

"Small but valuable pieces of copper and bra.s.s seem to disappear with alarming regularity. Most of the thefts have been attributed to workers on the night s.h.i.+ft."

Sally's blue eyes opened wide, but she returned Mr. Gandiss' steady gaze.

Her chin raised. "I've heard talk about it among the girls," she replied briefly. "That's all I know."

"You have no idea who may be taking the materials?"

"Not the slightest, sir."

An awkward silence fell. Mr. Gandiss started to speak again, then changed his mind.

"Was there anything else?" Sally asked stiffly.

"Nothing."

"Then may I return to my work?"

"Why, yes." It was Mr. Gandiss' turn to appear awkward and ill at ease.

"We hope you will enjoy your work here, Sally," he said, feeling that a friendly word was necessary to end the interview. "If you should learn anything that will lead to the arrest of the thieves, I hope you will give us the information."

Sally inclined her head slightly in a.s.sent. With dignity, she walked from the office.

No one spoke for several minutes after the girl had gone. Then Mr.

Gandiss drew a deep sigh.

"I had no idea Sally was working here," he said, frowning.

"Father, you shouldn't have accused her of stealing!" Jack burst out.

"My dear boy, I accused her of nothing."

"Well, Sally is proud. She took it that way. You don't really believe she would stoop to such a thing?"

"I confess I don't know what to think. Joe the Sweeper may not be a reliable informer."

"If he saw her hide bra.s.s in her clothing as he claims, why didn't he report her last night?" Jack demanded. "Sally is no thief. I've known her since she was a kid. I get mighty sore at her sometimes, she's so c.o.c.ky.

But she never did a dishonest act in her life."

"I'm glad to hear you defend her, Jack," Mr. Gandiss said quietly.

"Certainly no action will be taken without far more conclusive evidence.

Now suppose you and Penny amuse yourselves for a few minutes. Mr. Parker and I have a few business matters to discuss."

Thus dismissed, Penny and Jack wandered outside.

"Want to see the steel plant?" Jack asked indifferently. "They should be pouring about this time."

At Penny's eager a.s.sent, he led her to another building, up a steep flight of iron stairs to an inner balcony which overlooked the huge blast furnaces. In the noisy, hot room, conversation was practically impossible.

Gazing below, Penny saw a crew of men in front of one of the furnaces, cleaning the tapping hole with a long rod.

In a moment a signal was given and the molten steel was poured into a ladle capable of holding a hundred and fifty tons. An overhead crane, operated by a skilled worker, lifted the huge container to the pouring platform.

Next the molten ma.s.s was turned into rectangular ingots or molds.

"The steel will cool for about an hour before it is ready to be taken from the mold," Jack shouted in Penny's ear.

Moving on, they saw other ingots already cooled, and in a stripping shed observed cranes with huge tongs engage the lugs of the molds and lift them from the ingots.