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Updated: June 9, 2025
"That proves nothing more than poor spike-holds in a few dry-rotted cross-ties," Lidgerwood objected. "No; there were a number of others farther along also turned over and broken and bent. But the first one was the only freak." "How was that?"
I've got a job right now! Why on top of earth didn't I think of him before? He's the man to keep tab on Hallock." But now Lidgerwood was frowning again. "I don't like that, Mac. It's a dirty business to be shadowing a man who has a right to suppose that you are trusting him." "But, good Lord! Mr. Lidgerwood, haven't you got enough to go on?
Before the special was well out of the Angels yard she was commanding silence, and laying down the law for the others, particularizing Carolyn Doty, though only by way of a transfixing eye. "Listen a moment, all of you," she called. "We mustn't forget that this isn't a planned excursion for us; it's a business trip for Mr. Lidgerwood, and we are here by our own invitation.
It's too horrible!" There was a bull-bellow of rage from the room they had just left, and Lidgerwood hurried his companion into the first refuge that offered, which chanced to be the trainmaster's room.
The two men in the lead could be no others than Flemister and the chief clerk, presumably on their way to the carrying out of whatever plot they had agreed upon, with Lidgerwood for the potential victim. But since this plot evidently turned upon the nearing approach of Lidgerwood's special train, why were they plunging on blindly into the labyrinthine depths of the Wire-Silver mine?
"Sullivan is a thief, all right, but he does it openly and brags about it; carries off a set of bridge-timbers, now and then, for house-sills, and makes a joke of it with anybody who will listen." Lidgerwood dismissed Sullivan abruptly. "It is an organized gang, and it must have its members pretty well scattered through the departments and have a good many members, too," he said conclusively.
Angels being a meal station, there was a twenty-minute stop for all trains, and the passengers from 205 were crowding the platform and hurrying to the dining-room and lunch-counter when Lidgerwood made his way to the station end of the building.
Lidgerwood, passing beyond the door of communication, found himself in a dingy room, with cobwebs festooning the ceiling and a pair of unwashed windows looking out upon the open square called, in the past and gone day of the Angelic promoters, the "railroad plaza."
There was time enough for Lidgerwood to rush the little Tadasu to the forward vestibule, to fling him into space, and to make his own flying leap for safety before the crisis came. Happily there was no wreck, though the margin of escape was the narrowest.
But when he finally climbed the stair of the Crow's Nest to tap at Lidgerwood's door, he brought the first authentic news from the camp of the enemy. When McCloskey had come at a push of the call-button, Lidgerwood snapped the night-latch on the corridor door.
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