“In charge of the conduit construction.”
The inspector reflected a moment. “Wasn’t that Macmillan’s position?” he asked.
“Until a month or so ago,” Nash said. “Hooker dismissed him for incompetency.”
“So?” The inspector frowned, and appeared surprised. However, he asked no more questions.
“We’ll take the pay rolls now,” he said sharply, lapsing back into his former impersonal and businesslike way.
Nash produced the book and began to call off the different gangs, the numbers they went under, and the total wage list each subforeman was responsible for. He reached his own name, called out the four figures down on the sheet—then hesitated.
“What’s that again?” asked the inspector.
“Five thousand four hundred and eighty,” Nash read slowly, still puzzling over the discovery.
“Five thousand four hundred and eighty—O.K.,” repeated the other. Then, pen suspended in air, he said: