st thing he
recalled in mind was The Laird's remark that Donald planned to make
him foreman of the loading-sheds and drying-yards; so he wasted no
time in presenting himself before Donald's office door. To his
repeated knocking there was no reply, so he sought Mr. Daney.

"Hello, Dan! You back?" Daney greeted him. "Glad to see you. Looking
for Mr. Donald?"

"Yes, sor; thank you, sor."

"Mr. Donald is ill in the company's hospital. We're afraid, Dan, that
he isn't going to pull through."

"Glory be!" Mr. O'Leary gasped, horrified on two counts. First,
because he revered his young boss, and, second, because the latter's
death might nullify his opportunity to become foreman of the
loading-sheds and drying-yard. "Sure, what's happened to the poor
bhoy?"

Before Daney could answer, a terrible suspicion shot through the agile
and imaginative O'Leary brain. In common with several million of his
countrymen, he always voiced the first thought that popped into his
head; so he lowered that member, likewise his voice, peered cunningly
into Andrew Daney's haggard face, and whispered:

"Don't tell me he tried to commit suicide, what wit' his poor broken
heart an' all!"

It was Andrew Daney's turn to peer suspiciously at Dirty Dan. For a
few seconds, they faced each other like a pair of belligerent
game-cocks. Then said Daney:

"How do you know his heart was broken?"

Dirty Dan didn't know. The thought hadn't even occurred to him until
ten seconds before; yet, from the solemnity of Daney's face and
manner, he knew instantly that once more his feet were about to tread
the trails of romance, and the knowledge imbued him with a deep sense
of importance.

He winked knowingly.

"Beggin' yer pardon, Misther Daney an' not m'anin' the least offinse
in life, but--I know a lot about that young man--yis, an' the young
leddy, too--that divil a sowl on earth knows or is goin' to find out."
He tried a shot in the dark. "That was a clever bit o' wurrk gettin'
her out o' Port Agnew--"

Andrew Daney's hands closed about Dirty Dan's collar, and he was
jerked violently into the latter's office, while Daney closed and
locked the door behind them. The general manager was white and
trembling.

"You damned, cunning mick, you!" he cried, in a low voice. "I believe
you're right. You do know a lot about this affair--"

"Well, if I do, I haven't talked about it," Dirty Dan reminded him
with asperity.

"You knew the girl had left Port Agne