The job had been watched with a great deal of interest by the engineers and foremen on the other sections of the aqueduct, and Nash received a dozen telephone calls congratulating him on the success of the undertaking.
He was just back in his quarters, when a knock sounded on his door, and, opening it, he allowed a surprised exclamation to escape him.
“Miss Breen! Come right in.”
The girl obeyed him. She was dressed in her usual riding habit. Her face did not have the usual color and life, and her eyes were far from being alive and sparkling.
“Mr. Nash,” she began hurriedly, ignoring the chair he had pulled out, “I’ve come to warn you. You—you must get away before morning.”
“Get away?” Nash frowned, then laughed. “And why?”
“Are you never going to take me seriously?” she demanded, almost bitterly. “Have you forgotten what I told you—last night on the top of the mountain?”
“I’ve not forgotten,” he answered; “but I half fancied you were out of your head at the time.”
“I told you that the authorities at Los Angeles were coming here—to arrest you. I meant it. They will be here the first thing in the morning. That is why I rode from the ranch to-night. You must not remain here.”
“Miss Breen,” he said quietly, “I cannot run away—I would not run away. What you have said about my not following the city specifications is absurd. I can prove it to you. Let the authorities come. I will welcome any investigation they may make.”