“I mean that it doesn’t lie with us any more to keep this thing quiet.”
“What? Have the inspectors caught on?”
“Since we haven’t had a bunch of them jumping onto us, I infer not. But there is at least one warm enemy of yours who knows about it.”
“Who is it?”
“Black Jack Dargin.”
David flew into a rage for the second time that day.
“Can’t I get a positive order obeyed any more on this job?” he rasped. “How many times have I got to say that nobody from the outside is to be allowed in this tunnel?”
“Dargin hasn’t been here,” said Plegg evenly. “But he has had one of his steerers working here as a mucker.” A pause, and then, in the same even tone: “I guess you’ll have to give up your idea of running Black Jack off the lot. It isn’t worth while, anyway.”
David Vallory was still angry. “I’ll be shot if I’ll give it up!” he snapped. “I’ve got a string to pull that will clean those Powder Can dives off the map, and I’ll pull it to-night before I sleep!”
“And take the risk of Dargin’s giving this thing away?”