ructions. When she had finished he looked up and wagged his head
apprehendingly.

"Yes; I see what you mean--and it's none o' my business what you mean
it for," he answered. "I'll get the evidence, if there is any."

"It must be like the other; in black and white," she stipulated. "And
you needn't say 'if.' Look for a red-faced man with stiff mustaches and
a big make-believe diamond in his shirt-front, and make him tell you."

Broffin wagged his head again. "There ain't goin' to be any grand jury
business about it, is there?" he questioned; adding: "I know your
man--saw him this afternoon over at the plant. He's goin' to be a tough
customer to handle unless I can tell him there ain't goin' to be any
come-back in the courts."

Miss Grierson was opening her purse and she passed a yellow-backed
bank-note to her newest confederate.

"Your retainer," she explained. "And about the red-faced man: we sha'n't
take him into court. But I'd rather you wouldn't buy him, if you can
help it. Can't you get him like this, some way?"--she held up a thumb
and finger tightly pressed together.

Broffin's grin this time was wholly of appreciation.

"You're the right kind--the kind that leads trumps all the while, Miss
Grierson," he told her. Then he did the manly thing. "I'll go into this,
just as you say--what? But it's only fair to warn you that it may turn
up some things that'll feaze you. You know that old sayin' about
sleepin' dogs?"

Miss Grierson was gathering the reins over the little Morgan's back and
her black eyes snapped.

"This is one time when we are going to kick the dogs and make them wake
up," she returned. "Good-by, Mr. Broffin."

XXXIII

GATES OF BRASS

It was an hour beyond the normal quitting time on the day of ultimatums
and counter-threatenings, the small office force had gone home, and the
night squad of deputies had come to relieve the day guard. Griswold
closed the spare desk in the manager's room and twirled his chair to
face Raymer.

"We may as well go and get something to eat," he suggested. "There will
be nothing doing to-night."

Raymer began to put his desk in order.

"No, not to-night. The trouble will begin when we try to start up with a
new force. Call it a weakness if you like, but I dread it, Kenneth."

Griswold's smile was a mere baring of the teeth. "That's all right, Ned;
you do the dreading and I'll do the fighting," he said; adding: "What
we've had to-day has merely whett