Mentally Nash recalled to mind the maps he had stumbled upon; those cleverly executed and highly technical drawings. And how intensely interested she had been in the construction work; what unusual questions she had asked.
In spite of this Nash could not bring himself to the point of suspecting the girl of being an accomplice of the man who had committed, or intended to commit, such dastardly outrages. Some of her actions were puzzling, he admitted, and yet she seemed to be cast in too fine a mold for such an association.
Upon his return to his cabin, an hour later, Nash found Hooker awaiting him. Hooker came regularly from Los Angeles twice or three times a month, bringing letters and specifications from Sigsbee and the construction board of engineers.
“Hello, Nash,” he said. “You’re late to-night. I’ve been waiting since five o’clock.”
“I am a bit later than usual,” Nash admitted. “We’ve been troubled with bursted water mains lately. Some vandal has been smashing them with a sledge. I’ve been trying to get at the bottom of the mystery.”
Then, as briefly as possible, he told Hooker of the previous night’s accident. Of the recent affair he mentioned not a word.
“Nasty business,” answered Hooker. “If it isn’t stopped it’s likely to put you away behind on your contracts. So far, however, Sigsbee is highly elated over your work, Nash. Don’t mind me telling you so, do you? It might seem funny, coming from one in my position, eh? But I’m as glad as the boss. He gave me the same opportunity—and I fell down. Maybe it was the booze, and maybe again it wasn’t. Anyhow, I’m glad to see you’re making good.”
“What’s the occasion for to-night’s visit?” Nash asked. “Anything new?”
Hooker brought out some folded papers, spreading them upon the table. “These are the rest of the steel specifications,” he said, running his fingers down the list of numbers. “You’ve followed the others, haven’t you?”
“To the hair’s breadth,” Nash replied.