“There wasn’t any murder last night, but there is going to be one when I can find this man who writes anonymous letters to you!” he broke out. “No; sit down again, please. I am not nearly through. It makes very little difference what Mr. Lushing, or anybody else, may write or say to me, David; but there are other things that do make a world of difference. What special thing is there in that tunnel that you don’t want Mr. Lushing or his engineers to find out?” He stared at her gloomily. “If you were your father’s son instead of his daughter, I might tell you.” “You will tell me anyhow,” she declared quickly. “If you don’t, I shall find out for myself.” “I believe you are quite capable of it. But there is nothing to be told more than I have already told you. You may remember that I admitted that there was a place in the tunnel that may be called dangerous. If Lushing finds out about it, he will immediately insist that it is dangerous, and the railroad people will make us spend a lot of money needlessly. Your father didn’t put me here to bankrupt the Grillage Engineering Company, Vinnie.” She ignored the clause in condonation. “So, accordingly, you have given orders to our men to have an accident happen if the secret seems likely to be discovered. This is simply horrible, David!” “It is rather primitive, I’ll admit. But it’s business--in the modern meaning of the word. More than that, I owe it to your father.” “You don’t owe him _anything_ that ought to be paid with such a frightful price! What ought to be done with that place in the tunnel? What would be done if you were not blind to everything but profit and loss?” David shrugged his shoulders and turned his face away. “I suppose the bad piece of roof would be shot down.” “And you are deliberately allowing it to stay up--if it will--and endangering the lives of your workmen every hour of the day and night?” “Hard-rock men always take a chance. It is a part of their trade. And Regnier, or some other member of the staff, is always there to take it with them.” “You are hopeless--absolutely and utterly hopeless, David! Don’t you see what you are forcing me to do?” “No.” “I have some little conscience, if you haven’t. I can’t say anything to Mr. Lushing, of course, and I wouldn’t if I could. But I can write to Mr. Maxwell, the general manager of the railroad at Brewster. It so happens that I know him, and his wife.” “Hold on; you wouldn’t do anything like that! Think a minute of the position in which it would place your father.” She shook her head despairingly. “You drive me into a corner and then beat me!” she cried. “It is all wrong, wrong! And you have broken my heart, David, because I thought you were different. You lay this horrible burden upon me one minute, and tie my hands the next. What if this man who was hurt last night should die?” “He won’t die; but neither will he talk,” was the gritting reply.