“Is that how you do it? Is that the way you caught the post-office thieves, Calvin?”
The chemistry expert laughed.
“It’s only a little pointer on methods,” he averred. “When my attention was first called to such things—it was on a case in the Department of Justice in which I was required to give expert testimony—I was very strongly impressed with the crudities of the ordinary detective methods. I said to myself that what was needed was some one who could apply good, careful laboratory practice; a habit of observation which counts nothing too small to be weighed and measured.”
“Go on,” said Maxwell.
“The idea came to me that I’d like to try it on, and I did. My theory is correct. Human beings react under certain given conditions just as readily, and just as inevitably, as the inorganic substances react in a laboratory experiment.”
Maxwell reached for the box of safety matches and passed it to Sprague, whose cigar had gone out.
“I wish you could stay and put this railroad of ours into your test-tube, Calvin. We’re teetering along on the edge of an earthquake—oh, yes—I know you’ll say it’s only a scare; but the worst panic that has ever gone into history was only a scare in the beginning. One of these fine nights some engineer or some operator with the bare nerves will lose his grip. You know about what that will mean. We’ve escaped alive, so far; but the first real wreck that hits us will be just about the same as dropping a lighted match into a barrel of gunpowder; I thought it had come to-night; I’m glad it hasn’t, but I know it’s only postponed.”
The chemistry man nodded.
“Somebody is reaching for you with a big stick; that is very evident, Maxwell. And there are brains behind it, too, when you come to think of it. If you wanted to kill a man without getting hanged for murder, one way to do it would be to persuade him to commit suicide. Has it ever occurred to you that somebody may be trying the same experiment on your railroad?”
“Good Lord, no!”