Luke began to lose patience. "Well," he said, "as I told you, I’m sorry, but you can’t see him." In spite of Leighton’s orders and his own customary obedience to them, Luke’s voice had become sharp. It was just then only the sharpness of an underling; but, because Rollins himself was an underling, the visitor resented it, and this resentment gave him the courage he wanted. He stood up, and he bore himself with an erectness which had a fresh character. "It’s him that will be sorry," he said. "I came here to give him information that’d re-elect him." Notwithstanding the man’s new attitude, Luke thought he scented the crank. All sorts of cranks infested the District-Attorney’s office, and every sort was certain it could purge the city or re-elect Leighton. Luke lost his temper. He spoke with the drawl with which he commonly spoke, but his tone was bitter. His tongue laid hold of the uppermost thought in his head. "I suppose," he said, "you’ve come here to place the blame for the North Bridge wreck?" The breath caught in Rollins’s throat. "How did you know?" he demanded. It was not a crank that asked that question: it was a sane man badly startled. Luke recognized the distinction and instantly resolved to push the advantage he had fortuitously gained. He rose, smiling slowly. "You’ve told me you knew I was one of the assistant district-attorneys of New York," he drawled. "I would advise you to act on the knowledge, Mr. Rollins, and not to lose any time about it." "I——" began Rollins; but bluster came to the aid of his timidity. "No," he said, "I’ve got to see Mr. Leighton." Luke had no idea who his visitor was or what information he might possess, but he was now certain that worth-while information was in Rollins’s possession. Without further fencing, the lawyer, therefore, resorted to an old stratagem that he had learned when he first entered the District-Attorney’s office: on the bare chance that the evidence might be documentary and within reach, he took a quick stride towards Rollins, raising his right hand as if to seize him. At once the right hand of Rollins shot upward and stopped protectingly over his breast. "Now then," said Luke, "hand me those papers that you’ve got in your breast-pocket." "No," said Rollins; "no; they’re for Mr. Leighton." "Hand them over.’" "They’re mine." "If you don’t hand them over," said Luke lazily, "I shall take them." "You’ve got no right to!" "You’d better save yourself trouble, Mr. Rollins." "I won’t!" From under his lazy lids, Luke saw that the man was only frightened. With a flash of inspiration, the lawyer guessed something of the truth. This fellow was probably a clerk in the M. & N. offices. "You won’t be arrested for robbing the office-files, if that’s what you’re scared about," he said; "and you won’t be told on and discharged." Rollins was visibly relieved. "You give me your word, Mr. Huber?" "I do. Come on now: let’s see what you’ve got."