rawing-case, and with much interest delving into the huge drawings
that it contained.

"Come here, Mr. Platt," Dillingham went on. "You cast your eagle eye
over these drawings while I do a little job of interviewing," and he
walked over to the employees of the office, who, since they had been
roughly warned by Feeney not to go near "that body," had huddled,
scared and limp, in the far corner of the room.

Perspiring and angry, Feeney tried for five solid minutes to obtain
some response from the dead telephone, then he gave it up.

"I've got to go out and hunt up another 'phone," he declared. "Biff,
I'll appoint you my deputy. Don't let anybody touch the corpse till
the coroner comes."

"I'll go with you," said Bobby hastily, very glad to leave the room,
and both he and Mr. Ferris accompanied Feeney. No sooner was Feeney
out of the place than Dillingham reconnected the telephone and went
back to his investigations. He was thoroughly satisfied, after a few
questions, that the present employees knew nothing whatever, and Platt
reported to him that every general drawing he could find was marked
three-tenths inch to the foot, none being marked one-fourth.

"That doesn't matter so much," mused Dillingham. "It will be easy
enough to prove that these are the same drawings that were provided
the contestants, and six firms will swear that they were marked
one-fourth of an inch to the foot. What we have to do is to prove that
the drawings the Middle West Company used as the basis of their bid
were marked one-fourth inch to the foot."

The telephone bell rang violently while Dillingham was puzzling over
this matter, and one of the employees started to answer it.

"No, you don't!" shouted Dillingham. "You fellows are dispossessed."

He took down the receiver.

"Waterworks engineer's office?" came a brisk voice through the
telephone.

"Yes," said Dillingham.

"This is the _Chronicle_. The _Bulletin_ has an extra----"

Dillingham waited to hear no more. He hung up the receiver with a
grin, and it was music in his ears to hear those bells impatiently
jangling for the next ten minutes. It seemed to quicken his
intelligence, for presently he slapped his hand upon his leg and
jumped toward the group of employees in the corner.

"Say!" he demanded. "Who figured on this job for the Middle West
Company?"

"Dan Rubble, I suppose," answered a lanky draftsman, who, still
wearing his apron, had slipped his coat on over his over