“After he got back he showed up in the office and took his job again, lettin’ Catherton go home.”
The Government man’s eyes narrowed and after a moment he began again.
“How near can you come to keeping your own counsel, Mr. Tarbell?” he demanded abruptly.
“I reckon I can talk a few without sayin’ much,” said the ex-cowboy. And then, after a pause: “You mean that you don’t want to be mixed up in this thing by name, Mr. Sprague?”
“You’ve hit it exactly. You’ve got your start and I want you to work it out yourself. You have the line. Somebody—somebody who is not a thousand miles from your head-quarters building over yonder—is working this scare, working it for a purpose which he wishes to accomplish without making himself actually and legally responsible. Had you got that far in your own reasoning, Mr. Tarbell?”
“No, indeedy,” was the prompt reply. “I reckon I’m only a plug when it comes down to the sure-enough, fine-haired part of it.”
“You’ll learn, after a bit,” said the chemistry expert shortly. “But let that go. You have the facts now, and they are driven pretty well into a corner. Can you go and get your man?”
Tarbell got up and shoved his hands into his pockets.
“I reckon I can,” he admitted slowly, and started to move away. But at the door the big man at the writing-desk recalled him.
“Don’t go on supposition, Tarbell. Ask yourself, when you get outside, if you’ve got the evidence that the court will demand. Ask yourself, also, if you know of your own knowledge, or if you’ve only allowed yourself to be hypnotized into your belief. If you can get satisfactory answers to these questions, go to it and bring back the money, as they say up in Seattle.”