“Most likely. She chums with her father a good bit—when she isn’t too busy otherwise. Ever meet her?”
David Vallory admitted the fact affirmative but did not dilate upon it.
“She is a pretty good little engineer, herself,” Plegg went on. “She was out here last fall, and it was whispered around at the Inn that Lushing had the colossal nerve to make love to her.”
“But that wasn’t the reason why he was dropped?” said David, willing to learn something more of the rise and fall of his predecessor.
“Nobody knows; but it may have had some bearing. Mr. Grillage never had much use for Lushing as a man, but he was—and is—a cracking good organizer; a man who could squeeze a profit out of a job on a bid that had driven every other contractor out of the field. It was a fairly open secret around here last fall that Miss Virginia turned him down hard; and after that he began to sell us out to the railroad company. Basing the notion upon the Inn gossip about him and Miss Virginia, our fellows were not slow to charge his treason to pure vindictiveness.”
David Vallory was wiser now than he had been when he began as a working assistant on the Coulee du Sac bridge.
“What did he have to sell, Plegg?” he asked.
Plegg closed one eye and his habitual smile showed his strong, even teeth.
“Little tricks of the trade,” he answered obliquely. “You are the chief on the job now, and if you don’t know what they are, you can say that you don’t, and swear to it.”
“You mean that we are not giving the railroad company a square deal?”