Eckstein was lifting himself by painful inches from his chair.  A silence as of the grave had fallen upon the two MacMorroghs.  It was the senior partner who broke it.

“’Tis as ye say, Misther Eckstein.  A man—­a safe man, that’ll do what he’s told to do—­will be at Ford’s heels till this thing do be settled.  And now for yourself:  ’tis betther that ye kape dark.  Four of us know that you’re in the camp—­no wan else need know.  I’ve a room and a bed, and ye’ll be nadin’ the lasht, I’m thinking.”

The two MacMorroghs were bestirring themselves, and Penfield was slipping through the door into the commissary when Eckstein’s fingers closed upon his arm.

“Your part is to keep tab on the programme,” he whispered “Get word instantly to Brian if there is any change.  And if you weaken, Arthur, I’ll promise you just one thing:  I’ll pull you in with the rest of us if I have to swear to a string of lies a mile long.  Remember that.”

Penfield escaped at length, and stumbled through the littered end-of-track yard to where the lighted windows of the Nadia marked the berth of the president’s car.  Out of the shadow of the car a man rose up and confronted him.  It was Frisbie, and he asked a single question: 

“Say, Penfield, who was that fellow who rode around to the MacMorroghs’ back door just after dark?”

“It was Eckstein.”  The secretary let slip the name before he could lay hold of his discretion.

“Oh:  all right That’s all,” said the engineer; and he vanished.

Climbing to the observation platform, Penfield let himself into the cheerful central compartment of the Nadia quietly enough to surprise two people who were sitting together on one of the broad divans.  The two were Ford and Miss Alicia Adair, with Aunt Hester Adair, reading under the drop-light at the table, for the only other occupant of the compartment.  It was Miss Alicia who told the secretary that he was not needed.

“Mr. Colbrith was very tired, and he has gone to bed,” she said; and Penfield, still pallid and curiously unready of speech, said he believed he’d go, too.

Ford got up when Penfield had disappeared in the curtained vestibule leading to the state-rooms.

“I shall wait one more day, because you want me to,” he said, resuming the conversation which had been broken off by Penfield’s incoming.  “But I’ll tell the truth:  I came here to-night to have it over with.  We were as near quarreling to-day as I want to come, and if Frisbie hadn’t got between—­”

“Good Mr. Frisbie!” she said.  “Some day I hope to get a chance to be very nice to him.”

Ford laughed.  The evening had healed many of the woundings of the day.

“If you don’t get the chance it won’t be Dick’s fault—­or mine.  Meantime, I’ll be delighted to pose as his substitute.”

She had gone with him to the door, and his last word was a reminder.  “Don’t forget,” he said.  “I’m to drive your buckboard to-morrow, whatever happens.”