"I've got a report here," said the voice of Jepson, "that I'd like to show you—alone."
There was an impatient slamming of desk drawers and then the clerk spoke up—the young man who had taken Mary's place.
"That report of the experts? I put it in here. You remember, on account of Miss Fortune."
"Oh, yes," answered Jepson, "and by the way, where is she?"
And then suddenly his voice was dropped. Mary reached for her ear-'phone and slipped it on and listened to catch every word. If Jepson saw fit to practice deceit she had no compunction in listening in.
"Well, that's all right," he was saying, "she can't hear what we say. You go on out for your lunch."
There was a scuffling of feet and then, still talking, Jepson led the way to the Directors' room.
"Yes, she reads your lips—she's really quite clever at it—that's her, running the typewriter, now."
He shut the door and for several minutes Mary played a tattoo on her machine. Then she keyed down quietly and, setting her transmitter at its maximum, she turned it towards the wall.
"This is that report," the voice of Jepson was saying, "that you spoke to me about in the spring. It gives the geology of the whole Tecolote properties, by the very best experts in the field—three independent reports, made in advance of litigation, and each comes to the same conclusion. If we accept the ore-body as a single low-grade deposit instead of a series of high-grade parallel veins—and each of these experts does—the crest of that dome, the Old Juan claim, is the apex of the whole. In other words, according to the apex law, the possession of the Old Juan claim will give us indisputable right to the whole property. You can look over that yourself."