“Yes, Patsy’s game for it; I knew he would be.  He’d put his neck in a rope to spite the major.  But it’s a crazy thing, Mr. Kent.”

“I know it; but if it will give me twenty-four hours—­”

“It won’t.  They can’t get home on our line because we’ll be tied up.  But they can get the Naught-seven put on the Overland’s Limited at A. & T. Junction, and that will put them back here before you’ve had time to turn around twice.  Have they come down yet?”

“No,” said Kent; and just then he saw Loring coming in from the street entrance and went to meet him.

“I have the final word from Boston,” said the ex-manager, when he had walked Kent out of earshot of the train-takers.  “Your terms are accepted—­with all sorts of safeguards thrown about the ‘no cure, no pay’ proviso; also with a distinct repudiation of you and your scheme if there is anything unlawful afoot.  Do you still think it best to keep me in the dark as to what you are doing?”

“Yes; there are enough of us involved, as it stands.  You couldn’t help; and you might hinder.  Besides, if the mine should happen to explode in our direction it’ll be a comfort to have a foot-loose friend or two on the outside to pick up the pieces of us.”

Loring was polishing his eye-glasses with uncommon vigor.

“I wish you’d drop it, David, if it isn’t too late.  I can’t help feeling as if I had prodded you into it, whatever it is.”

Kent linked arms with him and led him back to the street entrance.

“Go away, Grantham, and don’t come back again,” he commanded.  “Then you can swear truthfully that you didn’t know anything about it.  It is too late to interfere, and you are not responsible for me.  Go up to see Portia; she’ll keep you interested while you wait.”

When Loring was gone, Kent went back to the wicket in the grille; but M’Tosh, who was always a busy man at train-time, had disappeared again.

It was a standing mystery to the train-master, and to the rank and file, why Receiver Guilford had elected to ignore the fact that he was within three hours of a strike which promised to include at least four-fifths of his operatives; had taken no steps for defense, and had not confided, as it appeared, in the members of his own official staff.

But Kent was at no loss to account for the official silence.  If the secret could be kept for a few hours longer, the junto would unload the Trans-Western, strike, tie-up and general demoralization, upon an unsuspecting Overland management.

None the less, there were other things unexplainable even to Kent; for one, this night flitting to Gaston to put the finishing touch on an edifice of fraud which had been builded shamelessly in the light of day.

Kent had not the key to unlock this door of mystery; but here the master spirit of the junto was doing, not what he would, but what he could.  The negotiations for the lease had consumed much time at a crisis when time was precious.  Judge MacFarlane had to be recalled and once more bullied into subjection; and Falkland, acting for the Plantagould interest, had insisted upon some formal compliance with the letter of the law.