wn and loitered around the entrance to the Central
Garage until he saw Ben Nicholson drive in about ten o'clock.

"Hello, Ben," he hailed the driver as Ben descended from his seat. "I
hear you've been pulling off a wedding."

Ben Nicholson lowered his voice and spoke out the corner of his mouth.
"What do you know about the young Laird, eh, Mr. Daney? Say I could
'a' cried to see him throwin' himself away on that Jane."

Mr. Daney shrugged. "Oh, well, boys will be boys," he declared. "The
bigger they are the harder they fall. Of course, Ben, you understand
I'm not in position to say anything, one way or the other," he added
parenthetically, and Ben Nicholson nodded comprehension. Thereupon
Mr. Daney sauntered over to the cigar stand in the hotel, loaded his
cigar case and went down to his office, where he sat until midnight,
smoking and thinking. The sole result of his cogitations, however, he
summed up in a remark he directed at the cuspidor just before he went
home:

"Well, there's blood on the moon and hell will pop in the morning."

For the small part he had played in bringing Nan Brent back to Port
Agnew, the general manager fully expected to be dismissed from the
McKaye service within thirty seconds after old Hector should reach the
mill office; hence with the heroism born of twelve hours of
preparation he was at his desk at eight o'clock next morning. At nine
o'clock The Laird came in and Mr. Daney saw by his face instantly that
old Hector knew. The general manager rose at his desk and bowed with
great dignity.

"Moritori salutamus, sir," he announced gravely.

"What the devil are you talking about, Daney?" The Laird demanded
irritably.

"That's what the gladiators used to say to the Roman populace. It
means, I believe, 'We who are about to die, salute you.' Here is my
resignation, Mr. McKaye."

"Don't be an ass, Andrew," The Laird commanded and threw the proffered
resignation into the waste basket. "Why should you resign?"

"To spare the trouble of discharging me, sir."

"What for?"

"Bringing the Brent girl back to Port Agnew. If I hadn't gotten her
address from Dirty Dan I would never have suggested to--"

"Enough. We will not discuss what might have been, Andrew. The boy
has married her, and since the blow has fallen nothing that preceded
it is of the slightest importance. What I have called to say to you is
this: Donald McKaye is no longer connected with the Tyee Lumber
Company."

"Oh, come