once far Hermann and demanding his resignation. That was Mr. Hitchcock's way: direct, natural and ruthless. But that isn't the Washington way. Judge Van Devanter, however, won the Secretary over to send for Hermann, proposed the promotion of B. F. Allen, and ask if there was anything against him. If Hermann was "in with" Allen, and Hyde and Benson, he would favor the promotion, and conceal the charges.
Hermann, summoned, came rubbing his hands and bowing, and the blunt Secretary tried to play out the game. But either he blundered or Hermann was too cunning for him. For when the Secretary told what he proposed for B. F. Allen and asked if there was anything on record against his promotion, Binger Hermann searched his mind.
"Let me see," he said. "B. F. Allen. It seems to me there is something against B. F. Allen. I may be mistaken, but—B. F. Allen, hum; if my memory does not deceive me there is a report on file that contains charges against B. F. Allen." Thus Binger Hermann, the sly, defeated the intriguers. But he didn't defeat the Secretary. Mr. Hitchcock wanted to see that report, and Hermann had to go and get it. And when Mr. Hitchcock read it (as if he had never read it before) he flew into a fresh passion. Why was such a report of such a scandal kept from him? He demanded the resignation of Mr. Binger Hermann.
Hermann ran to Senator Mitchell, and the Senator applied the Oregon pull. The President was seen and Secretary Hitchcock; they both were too angry to listen to anything but an appeal for mercy. So Senator Mitchell pleaded for time. There was to be a wedding in Mr. Hermann's family, he said, and it would be a pity to spoil the festivities by the sudden removal of the father from office. On this ground a reprieve was granted. How the President, the Secretary, Heney, Burns and all the others did regret this act of clemency! Hermann spent the time allowed him to burn the so-called private letter books of his office—the offense for which he was tried this year at Washington, and acquitted.
But no matter: a great result was accomplished. Mr. Hitchcock was aroused, and so was the President. Richards was made land commissioner in Hermann's place; Macey became chief clerk; and there were other changes and promotions. But the Secretary was far from satisfied. Hard to start, he was as hard to stop, and now that he knew there were crooks in his land office, his obstinacy became a fierce virtue. He called his altered cabinet about him, and, deciding that he must turn Holsinger's report into evidence, he proceeded to act.
Arthur B. Pugh, a law clerk in Van Devanter's office, was sent west with Charles Steece, a special agent. They encountered difficulties. They called on Schneider at Tucson, but, for some reason, he would talk no more. Unfortunately his statement to Holsinger had not been sworn to and, since he refused now to make an affidavit, his testimony was worthless as evidence. At Los Angeles, at San Francisco—all along the line, they were balked. They got some facts, however. They reported their convictions that there was fraud and, baffled themselves, they offered a suggestion. Mr. Pugh advised Secretary Hitchcock that only a detective could solve the problem.
Hitchcock Gets Him a Detective
A detective! The Secretary, more determined than ever by this set-back, seized upon the idea. He wanted a detective, but where do you go for detectives? Judge Van Devanter bethought him of the Secret Service of the Treasury Department and Chief Wilkie was called in. He heard the story. The problem lay out of his jurisdiction, but he said he could help. He offered to lend the Interior Department "the star of the Secret Service"—William J. Burns.
Burns is a detective. He is a detective of the old school, the kind you read about in books; he uses his head. Burns also makes thieves help him, but the thieves he uses are those that did the job. He "gets them right," makes them "come through" (as he calls confessing) and his genius appears in the way in which he finds out who the thieves are. He exercises his imagination; he calls it forming a theory, but, as we follow this detective's story through the land frauds, we shall see that his theorizing consists in nothing but mental seeing aided by reason. And the beginning thereof is suspicion.
Burns' suspicion is almost universal. The President once complained that Burns
