“To-day it was a straight-out, bloody crime, Phil; I’m confident of it. When I get to thinking about my part in it, I want to go hang myself. Of course, this traffic, most of it, is in women who know perfectly well what they are doing; but now and then there are exceptions--some careless or ignorant girl who is tolled along by rosy promises of an easy job in the wild West. I had such a case as that this evening, and it made me want to throw the whole cursed business of railroading into the discard and go buy me a pick and shovel.” “Let’s have it,” said Philip shortly. “The girl who came in this evening was ticketed from Des Moines, but her folks--so she told me--live on a farm somewhere north of the Iowa capital. I had the check for her trunk, and I took her and her baggage out to Madam Goguette’s, the place she was booked for. Philip, as long as I live I shall never forget the look in that girl’s eyes when she found out what she was in for; the look and the way she burst out crying and flung herself on the floor when she was told that she couldn’t run away--that she’d have to stay and work out her debt.” “Pretty tough,” said the pipe smoker evenly. “But, as you say, business is business.” “I didn’t say any such damned thing!” Reddick broke out hotly. Then: “You’ve come to be a devilish cold sort of fish since you struck it rich, Phil. A year ago a story like this I’ve just told you would have made you rush off and get a lawyer to swear out a writ of _habeas corpus_, or something of that sort. But now you merely say, ‘Pretty tough,’ and go on smoking your rotten pipe!” Philip smiled. “You get hot under the collar rather easily, don’t you, Reddick? It is a good fault, and sometimes I wish my own hair were a little nearer the color of yours. I’ll quit you and let you get down to work. You won’t get anything done so long as you have somebody around to beef at. Good-night.” He was about to let himself out when Reddick halted him. “Hold up a minute, Phil. I’m no spoil-sport, or I don’t mean to be, but while we’re talking about the things that are and ought not to be, I want to make a little roar for the underdog. You’ve been up here evenings playing poker in the car-record office with Middleton and some more of the clerks, off and on, haven’t you?” “Now and again, yes. What about it?” “Two things. While pretty nearly everything goes in this wild and woolly neck of woods, it is still barely possible that the Old Man might object to having the car-record, or any other of his offices, turned into a gambling shop. I have a horrible suspicion that he’ll make it hot for somebody, when he finds out. That is one thing, and the other is this: you oughtn’t to gamble with those boys, Phil. They’re not in your class. You carry too long a purse; you know you do. They have nothing but their salaries.” Philip’s smile was grim.