"Then, please ask him to step in to see me for a moment."
Mr. Irwin was a member of the Judge’s firm whose name did not appear upon its letter-heads, although he had been attached to it for more years than Mr. Perry or even the younger Mr. Falconridge. He was a little man with a gray Vandyck beard, pink cheeks, and twinkling blue eyes.
In the fewest possible words, Stein gave him a description of the letters that were in Luke Huber’s possession. He did not say who wanted these letters, or why they were wanted, but he left no doubt about the urgency of the commission he was delivering.
"It is rather a difficult assignment," he concluded, "but it must be done. There are great interests at stake."
"I think I can manage it," said Irwin cheerfully.
"I am afraid you will have to manage it," said the Judge.
"Very well," Irwin, still cheerful, agreed.
"All that I need add," said the Judge, "is this: we must take only one step at a time. If we can succeed by persuasion, there is no need to use other measures. I do not want to use other measures unless he forces us to use them. Remember that. The first thing to do is to convince him that we are too strong for him. For instance, he has this reform nomination for the district-attorneyship. If he could be made to see that we could take that nomination away from him, he might listen to reason."
"You will report results to me. Not methods, Irwin: only the results, but please report the results step by step. And understand that whoever undertakes this matter must not know too much to be dangerous, but must know enough to make no error."
"How soon do you want the letters, Judge?"
"The first step must be immediate. We must not run so fast that we stumble; but for the completion it will be impossible to wait long. Say twenty-eight days from date."
"Right," said Irwin, and walked briskly from the room.
Irwin had a manner of telephoning that was more hurried than the Judge’s, and Miss Weston treated him with greater deliberation. However, he had soon called up the office of Anson Quirk and learned that Quirk was there.
"Then, stay there for twenty minutes, will you?" asked Irwin. "I’m coming right around to see you."
Anson Quirk was a lawyer who had a small office and a large reputation on the East Side. His round, smiling face shone in every important case where was endangered the liberty or life of minor politicians or major thugs; the number of acquittals to his credit was surpassed only by the number of clients whom he had saved from ever appearing in court. He called every patrolman, magistrate, and tipstaff in the City and County of New York by his first name. He was successful before a judge, but he was magnificent before a magistrate, and with a police-officer he was a worker of miracles. In his own world, Quirk, whom Stein would have refused to shake hands with, was what Stein was upon a somewhat higher plane.