"I have it here," said the boss, and he took the blood-money bank-roll from his pocket and removed the rubber band. "Count it, Jimmie," he ordered, passing it to me.
I ran through the bunch. It was in twenties and fifties, and there was an even thousand dollars.
"That is the price of a man's life," said Mr. Van Britt, soberly, and then Mr. Norcross said, "Who knows anything about Durgin? Was he a married man?"
Mr. Van Britt shook his head.
"He had been married, but he and his wife didn't live together. He had no relatives here. I knew him in the southwest two years ago. He'd had domestic trouble of some kind, and didn't mix or mingle much with the other men. But he was a good despatcher, and two months ago, when we had an opening here, I sent for him."
"You think there is no doubt but that he was bribed to put those trains together to-night?"
"None in the least—only I wish we had a little better proof of it."
"Where did he live?"
"He boarded at Mrs. Chandler's, out on Cross Street. Morris boards there, too, I believe."
The boss turned to me.