"Do it; and tell your messenger that time is precious and expense doesn't count. That is the first half of your commission. Come a little closer and I'll tell you the second half." Broffin bent his head and she whispered the remainder of his instructions. When she had finished he looked up and wagged his head apprehendingly. "Yes; I see what you mean--and it's none o' my business what you mean it for," he answered. "I'll get the evidence, if there is any." "It must be like the other; in black and white," she stipulated. "And you needn't say 'if.' Look for a red-faced man with stiff mustaches and a big make-believe diamond in his shirt-front, and make him tell you." Broffin wagged his head again. "There ain't goin' to be any grand jury business about it, is there?" he questioned; adding: "I know your man--saw him this afternoon over at the plant. He's goin' to be a tough customer to handle unless I can tell him there ain't goin' to be any come-back in the courts." Miss Grierson was opening her purse and she passed a yellow-backed bank-note to her newest confederate. "Your retainer," she explained. "And about the red-faced man: we sha'n't take him into court. But I'd rather you wouldn't buy him, if you can help it. Can't you get him like this, some way?"--she held up a thumb and finger tightly pressed together. Broffin's grin this time was wholly of appreciation. "You're the right kind--the kind that leads trumps all the while, Miss Grierson," he told her. Then he did the manly thing. "I'll go into this, just as you say--what? But it's only fair to warn you that it may turn up some things that'll feaze you. You know that old sayin' about sleepin' dogs?" Miss Grierson was gathering the reins over the little Morgan's back and her black eyes snapped. "This is one time when we are going to kick the dogs and make them wake up," she returned. "Good-by, Mr. Broffin." XXXIII GATES OF BRASS It was an hour beyond the normal quitting time on the day of ultimatums and counter-threatenings, the small office force had gone home, and the night squad of deputies had come to relieve the day guard. Griswold closed the spare desk in the manager's room and twirled his chair to face Raymer. "We may as well go and get something to eat," he suggested. "There will be nothing doing to-night." Raymer began to put his desk in order. "No, not to-night. The trouble will begin when we try to start up with a new force. Call it a weakness if you like, but I dread it, Kenneth." Griswold's smile was a mere baring of the teeth. "That's all right, Ned; you do the dreading and I'll do the fighting," he said; adding: "What we've had to-day has merely whetted my appetite." The man of peace shook his head dejectedly.