“Listen, Judith: Black Jack has just been told something that gives him a strangle hold on Vallory; if he uses it, it will cost Vallory his place on this job, to say the least. I’m not saying that Dargin wouldn’t be justified, from his own point of view. Vallory would clean up these Powder Can joints if he had the authority--which he hasn’t, and won’t have. But he has said he would, and Dargin knows it.” “How would Jack be using this thing that you haven’t tied a name to?” she asked. “By passing it on to Lushing.” “That black-hearted devil!” she burst out. “’Tis little but the back of my hand that I’m owing him!” Plegg saw his opening and drove the wedge promptly. “We all know Lushing,” he said; “you probably have good reasons for hating him.” “Reasons, it is? Do you know what he’d be doing to me? For shame I can’t tell you. But if Jack Dargin had listened to him, it’s not here that I’d be, keeping house for my father!” “Dargin wants to marry you?” said Plegg quickly. The woman’s hard black eyes grew suddenly tender. “’Tis not all bad he is, Mr. Plegg. Show me the man like him that would do what he’s done.” Plegg had never faced a problem requiring swifter or more skilful handling. In the very nature of it he had to take much for granted; to assume the values of the unknown quantities where he could not demonstrate them. “You knew Vallory before you came here, didn’t you?” he asked. Her eyes fell. “I grew up with him--in Middleboro.” Plegg smiled. It was easier now. “I’m not going to ask you why you refused to talk with him the other night; we’ll let that go. I’m going to leave this thing with you, Judith. David Vallory stands to get a knife in the back. Jim Lushing will do the stabbing, but it will be Dargin who will hand him the knife. Your woman’s heart will tell you what to do, and how to do it.” She covered her face with her hands. “I can’t--_I can’t!_” she shuddered. “Himself would kill me, and I’d not be blaming him--after what he’s done for me in this place. Think of what you’d be asking me to do--to put the double-cross on the one man who would be caring anything for me!” Plegg caught his breath and took his last long leap in the dark. “Dargin is Dargin,” he said, speaking slowly, “but--you love David Vallory, Judith. That’s all I had to say; good-night.” And he opened the door and vanished. Having thus done his best to avert a possible tragedy--at the possible cost of another tragedy--the first assistant owned but one pressing anxiety, namely, to get out of the mining-camp speedily, and without stumbling upon some one of the late-hour stragglers who might recognize him.