“Dear Jack,” it began.  I saw at once that it was from Miss Taylor.  “Just a line,” she wrote, “to let you know that I am thinking about you always and hoping that you are better than when I saw you this evening.  Papa had the chairman of the board of directors of the Five-Borough here late to-night, and they were in the library for over an hour.  For your sake, Jack, I played the eavesdropper, but they talked so low that I could hear nothing, though I know they were talking about you and the tunnel.  When they came out, I had no time to escape, so I slipped behind a portiere.  I heard father say:  ’Yes, I guess you are right, Morris.  The thing has gone on long enough.  If there is one more big accident we shall have to compromise with the Inter-River and carry on the work jointly.  We have given Orton his chance, and if they demand that this other fellow shall be put in, I suppose we shall have to concede it.’  Mr. Morris seemed pleased that father agreed with him and said so.  Oh, Jack, can’t you do something to show them they are wrong, and do it quickly?  I never miss an opportunity of telling papa it is not your fault that all these delays take place.”

The rest of the letter was covered by the envelope, and Orton would not have shown it for worlds.

“Orton,” said Kennedy, after a few moments’ reflection, “I will take a chance for your sake—­a long chance, but I think a good one.  If you can pull yourself together by this afternoon, be over at your office at four.  Be sure to have Shelton and Capps there, and you can tell Mr. Taylor that you have something very important to set before him.  Now, I must hurry if I am to fulfil my part of the contract.  Good-bye, Jack.  Keep a stiff upper lip, old man.  I’ll have something that will surprise you this afternoon.”

Outside, as he hurried uptown, Craig was silent, but I could see his features working nervously, and as we parted he merely said:  “Of course, you’ll be there, Walter.  I’ll put the finishing touches on your story of high finance.”

Slowly enough the few hours passed before I found myself again in Orton’s office.  He was there already, despite the orders of his physician, who was disgusted at this excursion from the hospital.  Kennedy was there, too, grim and silent.  We sat watching the two indicators beside Orton’s desk, which showed the air pressure in the two tubes.  The needles were vibrating ever so little and tracing a red-ink line on the ruled paper that unwound from the drum.  From the moment the tunnels were started, here was preserved a faithful record of every slightest variation of air pressure.

“Telephone down into the tube and have Capps come up,” said Craig at length, glancing at Orton’s desk clock.  “Taylor will be here pretty soon, and I want Capps to be out of the tunnel by the time he comes.  Then get Shelton, too.”

In response to Orton’s summons Capps and Shelton came into the office, just as a large town car pulled up outside the tunnel works.  A tall, distinguished-looking man stepped out and turned again toward the door of the car.