CHAPTER X.
THE MYSTERY DEEPENS.
An interruption at this critical moment put an end to further argument. One of the subforemen, with a roll of blue prints, engaged Hooker’s attention, and Nash, aware of the time, and of the fact that considerable work had to be accomplished that day, abruptly turned away, leaving the foreman to brood over the dénouement.
Since the discovery last night, Nash had not allowed the affair to blind him; he had looked at the situation in the fairest possible light. Coming so abruptly, it stunned him at first. He had always imagined Hooker, while quarrelsome and quick-tempered at times, to stand for what was honorable—especially in a business way. Even after a careful comparison of the ledger with his own memorandum, Nash tried to believe that it had been a mistake—a slip of the pen turning the figure 3 into a 5. He even assured himself that once explained, the foreman would rectify the error immediately.
It was only now, after the short conversation with Hooker, that Nash realized the truth. The figures in the ledger, O.K.’d by the city inspector, were far from being mistakes; they had been placed there deliberately, and with but one intent: namely, to defraud the city.
These facts were with Nash the rest of the day, but he tried hard not to allow them to interfere with his work. When the screech of the steam shovel sounded at five o’clock, he finished with the task at hand, saw that the regular preparations for the night were made, and then returned to camp, going direct to his shack, without a glimpse of Hooker.
He was a trifle dubious as to the final outcome of the affair, and was glad, an hour or so later, when he saw the foreman coming up the path.
“Hello, Nash!” was the greeting. “How’s the work progressing?”
“Couldn’t be better,” Nash answered, wondering at the other’s tone and manner.
Hooker came in and sat down. He rolled himself a cigarette and lighted it before going on.
“Do you know, Nash,” he said, “you’re the best man I’ve ever employed on a job—and I’ve been in the business twenty years.” He blew out a cloud of smoke and watched it drift through the open door into the lowering twilight. “I’m anxious to help you along, too,” Hooker continued. “I’ve put you down on the list for a raise in salary.”
Nash leaned back in his chair and gazed quietly into the other’s partly obscured face.
“Thank you, Hooker. I have tried my best to please you—and the ones higher up. That’s why I called your attention to the—certain figures in the ledger.”
The foreman turned his face quickly, snatching the cigarette from between his lips.
“Are you still harping on that?” he demanded irritably. “I thought we’d settled it this morning.”
“It had only started then,” Nash replied. “I told you—or meant to tell you—that as long as I was a subforeman I wouldn’t allow any crooked work to go on in my department. I don’t know what is going on in the other divisions; I’m not expected to—but I’m responsible for the conduit construction work, and it’s got to be on the level.”
“You’re putting it pretty strong,” Hooker returned, realizing now that all pretense had to be thrown aside.
“I hope I do. The stronger the better.”
“You’d sacrifice a good job just because your eyes are too confounded sharp, eh?”
“Put it that way if you will,” Nash said quietly. “I have no authority over the dozen or more other departments, but the conduit work, bearing my O.K., must be clean and aboveboard.”
“See here, Nash,” burst out Hooker, “what’s got into you? I thought you had sense—I thought you were wise to some things. Sigsbee must have thought so, or he wouldn’t have asked me to put you to work. The old man seldom makes a mistake.”
The mention of that politician’s name sent Nash’s mind racing again. It was on the tip of his tongue to confess everything, when a totally new idea swept over him. He was still considering it when the foreman began talking again.
“I like you, Nash,” he said. “You’re a good worker, and in many ways you’ve exceeded my expectations. But you lack—er—well, we might call it tact.”
Nash smiled. “I think I displayed a little of that quality when I prevented the inspector from learning the truth about you last night, Hooker.”
The foreman shrugged. “Of course,” he admitted reluctantly. “In all probability, you saved me my job—and I’m grateful. But I hate to see a smart fellow like you lose out because you’re so—finical.”
“Finical?” Nash delivered the question leaning forward in his chair, the lines of his strong face set grimly, resolutely. Hooker’s features were indistinct now in the gloom; only the red end of his cigarette alternately glowed and died away. “You know better than that, Hooker. You’re giving your aid to a piece of dirty work—and inwardly I’m sure you’re ashamed. I can’t help you. I’ll leave to-morrow if you say so. I’m on the square, and I want others to be. This game hits me harder because it is aimed against the city of my birth. I was born in Los Angeles, and I’m proud of it. You’re cheating every one of its three hundred thousand citizens. They’re building this aqueduct, and they expect every man to do his duty.”
“Good Lord!” exclaimed Hooker. “You’re ringing in sentiment. It always did amuse me the way you natives blow your own horns. What the devil do you suppose the city of Los Angeles cares about you? Take it from me, Nash, sentiment and business don’t mix worth a cent.”
“Your opinions and mine differ on more than one subject,” Nash replied dryly.
Hooker tossed away his cigarette with a show of annoyance.
“You’re a mystery to me, Nash,” he declared.
Nash lighted the big lamp on the table before he answered:
“I don’t know why I should be. Is it because I——”
A broad, trembling beam of white danced through the uncurtained window, interrupting his speech. Both men turned instinctively. Hooker, the nearest to the window, suddenly exclaimed:
“That’s an automobile headlight! Now, who do you suppose would be fool enough to tackle these roads at this time of night?”
A big machine swept into view by this time, and both men left the shack and walked toward it.
The car was of the roadster type, and was occupied by one man, who, instantly he caught sight of Nash and Hooker, lifted a questioning shout:
“Hello! That you, Hooker?”
Hooker stifled an exclamation, and hurried forward, Nash following calmly. The man in the car had stepped out and was talking hurriedly to the foreman. As Nash came up, standing within the white glow of the twin headlights, Hooker turned.
“Guess you two gentlemen are acquainted, aren’t you?” he said, smiling.
Nash looked steadily into the stranger’s face.
“I don’t believe I’ve had the honor,” he answered.
Hooker turned swiftly to the other. “Why, you surely know Nash, don’t you?”
“Can’t say as I’ve ever met him before,” was the reply.
Hooker fell back as if some one had struck him across the face.
“Do you mean—mean to say,” he stammered, “that you two have never met before?”
“I guess that’s about the size of it,” announced the stranger.
Hooker was speechless. Nash looked from one to the other of the men, waiting patiently—not a little curiously, too—for the introduction that did not come.
Finally, with a shrug of indifference, the stranger turned back to the machine.
“I’m in a big hurry, Hooker,” he snapped. “I want to see you right away. Can you spare me a little time?”
“Of course,” the foreman replied dully, as if his mind was a dozen miles away from the subject.
Realizing that he was the unwelcome third party, Nash whirled about and went back to his shack. The moment he was out of hearing, the foreman and the stranger left the machine standing in the road and walked across to Hooker’s cabin.
“What the devil’s all this fuss about?” the newcomer burst out.
“I’ll explain in just a second,” Hooker answered. “I want to arrange one matter before then.”
They stepped into the big room of the cabin. Hooker lighted a lamp and pulled down the curtains. Then, without a word to his visitor, he jerked the receiver from the telephone and called for a certain person.
“Hello!” he snapped presently, in a hard, tense voice. “That you, Martin? This is Hooker. Now, listen to what I’m saying: I want you to come up here immediately. Understand? I want you to keep an eye on Nash, and see that he doesn’t try to get away from the camp. I’m holding you directly responsible. You must not let him out of your sight until you hear from me. Get that? And if it comes to a show-down—well, you know what to do. Remember all of that?”
The response must have been satisfactory, because Hooker immediately hung up the receiver and turned a relieved face toward the other occupant of the room.
“Now I’ll explain,” he said.