With Patricia in town the “silver-tongued spellbinder of Quaretaro Mesa,” as The Daily Capital called the railroad company’s campaign field-officer, would have been glad to evade some of the speaking appointments; but since his engagements had been made some days in advance, he was obliged to go.

On his return to the capital he was delighted to find the party of three still occupying the private dining-room suite at the Inter-Mountain.  Arriving on a morning train, he was permitted to make the party of three a party of four at the breakfast-table; and with Patricia sitting opposite he was able to forget the strenuosities for a restful half-hour.

Later, when he went to his offices in the Temple Court Building, the strenuosities reasserted themselves with emphasis.  Though he found his desk closed, and was reasonably certain that he had in his pocket the only key that would unlock it, he found his papers scattered in confusion under the roll-top.  A touch upon the electric button brought the stenographer from the anteroom.

“Who’s been into my desk, Collins?” he demanded, pointing to the confusion and scrutinizing the face of the young man sharply for signs of guilt.

“Goodness gracious!  How could anybody get into it when you’ve got the only key, Mr. Blount?” stammered the clerk.  Then he went on, parrot-like:  “I’ve been putting the letters and telegrams through the letter-slit, as you told me to, and I’ve kept the private office locked.”

“Nevertheless it is very evident that somebody has been here,” said Blount.  Then he had a sudden shock and wheeled shortly upon the stenographer.  “Collins, what did you do with that packet of papers I gave you last Monday—­the one I told you to put away in the safe?”

“I did just what you told me to; put it in the inner cash-box, and put the key of the cash-box on your desk.  Didn’t you get it?”

Blount felt in his pockets and found the key, which he handed to Collins.  “Go and get that packet and bring it to me,” he directed.  The shock was beginning to subside a little by now, and he sat down to bring something like order out of the confusion on the desk.  At first, he had thought that the sheaf of evidence letters which gave him the strangle-hold upon Gantry and the lawbreakers had been left in a pigeonhole of the desk.  Then he remembered having given it to Collins to put away.

A minute or two later it occurred to him that the stenographer was taking a long time for a short errand.  Rising silently, he crossed the room and reached for the knob of the door of communication.  In the act he saw that the door was ajar, and through the crack he saw Collins standing before the opened safe.  The clerk was running his tongue along the flap of a large envelope, preparatory to sealing it.  Blount’s first impulse was to break in with a sharp command.  Then he reconsidered and went back to his desk; was still busy at it when Collins came in and laid the freshly sealed envelope before him.