Once more Tregarvon found himself confronted by the dead wall of Hartridge’s reservations. That the professor was making reservations he did not doubt for an instant. There was still some bar to perfect frankness, and he seemed powerless to break it down. In sheer desperation he shunted the talk to the field of the obstacles. “It seems to be conclusively proved that the drill-dulling is chargeable to Thaxter, acting through the man Sawyer,” he said. “But Tryon refuses to believe that the other harassings have been inspired by the trust.” They had reached the Highmount boundary, and Hartridge paused with his hand on the gate latch. “I am entirely at one with your foreman in that belief, Mr. Tregarvon,” he rejoined. “Now that we are again upon amicable terms, I may confess that I have been greatly interested in the problem which these harassments have presented--the solving of problems being one of my small recreations. Did you leave an enemy at home who would be vindictive enough to follow you here?” Tregarvon shook his head. “So far as I know, I hadn’t an enemy in the wide world when I came here.” “Then you have developed one _in situ_, as it were, and a very unscrupulous one. Have you formed any theory of your own?” “None that is worth considering. At first, I suspected the McNabbs, fancying that their enmity might be a holdover on account of the old lawsuit about the land titles. That was before I knew that I had two of them working for me in the drill-gang. Later--I am ashamed to confess it--I thought that possibly Judge Birrell might have passed the word that I was to be driven out. That was a pure absurdity, of course.” “Quite so,” said the professor. “The judge is entirely incapable of doing such a thing, bitter as some of his prejudices are. It need not be denied that he was prejudiced against you at first. One evening, when he was driving with his daughter, he visited your drilling plant and was greatly incensed at finding it in the old Westwood slave burying-ground. But now you and Mr. Carfax have met him and have eaten at his table, and this, to a man of his characteristics, salves all wounds. Besides, as a matter of fact, you owe the help which enabled you to place your new power-plant directly to the judge. It was he who sent word to the mountain-folk to turn out with their teams.” “You surprise me!” said Tregarvon. “How did he know?” Hartridge smiled amiably. “You are not wholly in Mr. Carfax’s confidence, it would seem. On the evening when you had the trouble with the valley farmers, he and Miss Richardia drove over to Westwood House in your car while we waited dinner for them here at the school. And the next morning, presto! you had your help.” “You are guessing at this?”