t in kind.

"The condition has already expired by limitation; the fight is as good
as settled now," he said, placably. "We are only making a hopeless
bluff. We can hold our forty or fifty tramp workmen just as long as we
pay their board over in town, and don't ask them to report for work. But
the day the shop whistle is blown, four out of every five will vanish.
We both know that."

"Then there is nothing for it but a receivership," was Raymer's gloomy
decision.

"Not without a miracle," Griswold admitted. "And the day of miracles is
past."

Thus the idealist, out of a depth of wretchedness and self-exprobration
hitherto unplumbed. But if he could have had even a momentary gift of
telepathic vision he might have seen a miracle at that moment in the
preliminary stage of its outworking.

The time was half-past nine; the place a grotto-like summer-house on the
Mereside lawn. The miracle workers were two: Margery Grierson, radiant
in the daintiest of morning house-gowns, and the man who had taken her
retainer. Miss Grierson was curiously examining a photographic print:
the pictured scene was a well-littered foundry yard with buildings
forming an angle in the near background. Against the buildings a pile of
shavings with kindlings showed quite clearly; and, stooping to ignite
the pile, was a man who had evidently looked up at, or just before, the
instant of camera-snapping. There was no mistaking the identity of the
man. He had a round, pig-jowl face; his bristling mustaches stood out
stiffly as if in sudden horror; and his hat was on the back of his head.

"It ain't very good," Broffin apologized. "The sun ain't high enough yet
to make a clear print. But you said 'hurry,' and I reckon it will do."

Miss Grierson nodded. "You caught him in the very act, didn't you?" she
said coolly. "What did he do?"

"Dropped things and jumped for the camera. But the flash had blinded
him, and, besides, the camera had been moved. I let him have a foot to
fall over, and he took it; after which I made a bluff at tryin' to hold
him. Lordy gracious! new ropes wouldn't 'a' held him, then. I'll bet
he's runnin' yet--what?"

"What did he hope to accomplish by setting fire to the works?"

"It was a frame-up to capture public sympathy. There's been a report
circulating 'round that Raymer and Griswold was goin' to put some o' the
ringleaders in jail, if they had to _make_ a case against 'em. Clancy
had it figured out that the fire'd be ch