“How do you do, Mr. Ashe?” said Moran, rising and extending his hand. “I just learned you were boarding here. Glad to hear it. Makes it more interesting for Miss Ducharme, I imagine, and she needs cheering up considerable.” Jim responded to the greeting, experiencing at the same time a dubiety as to Moran’s sincerity. Indeed, without any adequate reason for his belief he was of the opinion that Moran was not pleased with his presence. “Sort of protegee of mine—Miss Ducharme. Father was walking boss for me. I always take supper with her when I’m in town, if I can manage it,” Moran explained. Jim nodded. He was remembering that it was on the morning following a visit of Michael Moran’s to Diversity he had first encountered Marie, on the top of a knoll from which a view might be had of far countries. Her reckless mood, reckless words, were fresh in his mind, and he would have been glad to know if Moran had anything to do with the matter. “Everything starting off well at the mill?” “Very well, indeed,” said Jim. “I see you’ve started shipments. Hope you’ve been getting cars as you wanted them. If you ever have any difficulty, just let me know.” “Thank you,” said Jim. His mind was only casually on what Moran was saying; it was striving to penetrate to what he was thinking. From the morning of his first sight of the man Jim had been repelled by him. That, of course, was to be laid to the fact that Moran was first seen in company with Welliver. But since then Jim had been led to suspect him as an active enemy. Stories—gossip, perhaps—that came to his ears led him to set Moran down as a shifty individual, a man who looked to the right and unexpectedly threw his brick to the left. Also he had heard from Tim Bennett and others hints regarding Moran’s attitude toward women. But there was proof of nothing. Jim was fair enough to admit this. All was hint, rumor, or deduction from flimsy bases. “You know, of course, that I’ve taken over the control of the Diversity Hardwood Company?” “I had heard it.” “That and my railroad will bring us in touch considerable. Before long we ought to hit on some sort of basis so we can work together for the benefit of both of us. We’re in a position to help each other in a dozen ways.” “By driving nails in each other’s logs,” Jim thought, but he smiled and agreed that co-operation seemed advisable. “Conditions in the county aren’t what they ought to be,” said Moran after puffing briefly on his cigar. “You and I—with the influence we can exert—ought to be able to do a lot to remedy matters.” “As how?” Jim asked, really curious to know what Moran was approaching.