“Are you still harping on that?” he demanded irritably. “I thought we’d settled it this morning.”
“It had only started then,” Nash replied. “I told you—or meant to tell you—that as long as I was a subforeman I wouldn’t allow any crooked work to go on in my department. I don’t know what is going on in the other divisions; I’m not expected to—but I’m responsible for the conduit construction work, and it’s got to be on the level.”
“You’re putting it pretty strong,” Hooker returned, realizing now that all pretense had to be thrown aside.
“I hope I do. The stronger the better.”
“You’d sacrifice a good job just because your eyes are too confounded sharp, eh?”
“Put it that way if you will,” Nash said quietly. “I have no authority over the dozen or more other departments, but the conduit work, bearing my O.K., must be clean and aboveboard.”
“See here, Nash,” burst out Hooker, “what’s got into you? I thought you had sense—I thought you were wise to some things. Sigsbee must have thought so, or he wouldn’t have asked me to put you to work. The old man seldom makes a mistake.”
The mention of that politician’s name sent Nash’s mind racing again. It was on the tip of his tongue to confess everything, when a totally new idea swept over him. He was still considering it when the foreman began talking again.
“I like you, Nash,” he said. “You’re a good worker, and in many ways you’ve exceeded my expectations. But you lack—er—well, we might call it tact.”
Nash smiled. “I think I displayed a little of that quality when I prevented the inspector from learning the truth about you last night, Hooker.”