“I suppose it all goes into the receiver’s expense account and the railroad pays for it,” he said to himself.  “So and so much for an inspection trip to Megilp and return.  I must tell Kent about it.  It will put another shovelful of coal into his furnace—­not that he is especially needing it.”

* * * * *

At the moment of this saying—­it was between ten and eleven o’clock at night—­David Kent’s wrath-fire was far from needing an additional stoking.  Once more Miss Van Brock had given proof of her prophetic gift, and Kent had been moodily filling in the details of the picture drawn by her woman’s intuition.  He had gone late to the house in Alameda Square, knowing that Portia had dinner guests.  And it was imperative that he should have her to himself.

“You needn’t tell me anything but the manner of its doing,” she was saying.  “I knew they would find a way to stop you—­or make one.  And you needn’t be spiteful at me,” she added, when Kent gripped the arms of his chair.

“I don’t mind your saying ’I told you so’,” he fumed.  “It’s the fact that I didn’t have sense enough to see what an easy game I was dealing them.  It didn’t take Meigs five minutes to shut me off.”

“Tell me about it,” she said; and he did it crisply.

“The quo warranto inquiry is instituted in the name of the State; or rather the proceedings are brought by some person with the approval of the governor or the attorney-general, one or both.  I took to-day for obtaining this approval because I knew Bucks was out of town and I thought I could bully Meigs.”

“And you couldn’t?” she said.

“Not in a thousand years.  At first he said he would take the matter under advisement:  I knew that meant a consultation with Bucks.  Then I put the whip on; told him a few of the things I know, and let him imagine a lot more; but it was no good.  He was as smooth as oil, admitting nothing, denying nothing.  And what grinds me worst is that I let him put me in fault; gave him a chance to show conclusively how absurd it was for me to expect him to take up a question of such magnitude on the spur of the moment.”

“Of course,” she said sympathetically.  “I knew they would find a way.  What are you doing?”

Kent laughed in spite of his sore amour-propre.

“At this present moment I am doing precisely what you said I should:  unloading my woes upon you.”

“Oh, but I didn’t say that.  I said you would come to me for help.  Have you?”

“I’d say yes, if I didn’t know so well just what I am up against.”

Miss Van Brock laughed unfeelingly.

“Is it a man’s weakness to fight better in the dark?”

“It is a man’s common sense to know when he is knocked out,” he retorted.

She held him with her eyes while she said: 

“Tell me what you want to accomplish, David; at the end of the ends, I mean.  Is it only that you wish to save Miss Brentwood’s little marriage portion?”