It was only now, after the short conversation with Hooker, that Nash realized the truth. The figures in the ledger, O.K.’d by the city inspector, were far from being mistakes; they had been placed there deliberately, and with but one intent: namely, to defraud the city.
These facts were with Nash the rest of the day, but he tried hard not to allow them to interfere with his work. When the screech of the steam shovel sounded at five o’clock, he finished with the task at hand, saw that the regular preparations for the night were made, and then returned to camp, going direct to his shack, without a glimpse of Hooker.
He was a trifle dubious as to the final outcome of the affair, and was glad, an hour or so later, when he saw the foreman coming up the path.
“Hello, Nash!” was the greeting. “How’s the work progressing?”
“Couldn’t be better,” Nash answered, wondering at the other’s tone and manner.
Hooker came in and sat down. He rolled himself a cigarette and lighted it before going on.
“Do you know, Nash,” he said, “you’re the best man I’ve ever employed on a job—and I’ve been in the business twenty years.” He blew out a cloud of smoke and watched it drift through the open door into the lowering twilight. “I’m anxious to help you along, too,” Hooker continued. “I’ve put you down on the list for a raise in salary.”
Nash leaned back in his chair and gazed quietly into the other’s partly obscured face.
“Thank you, Hooker. I have tried my best to please you—and the ones higher up. That’s why I called your attention to the—certain figures in the ledger.”
The foreman turned his face quickly, snatching the cigarette from between his lips.