Garth stirred.
"I see. Iron. Steel. And now it works night and day?"
"On war orders," the native answered. "Now you wouldn't think we'd ever have got in the war, would you? There's a whole town—board shacks—to take care of the men—more'n fifteen hundred of them."
Garth nodded thoughtfully. Here at the start was a condition that might make the presence of a detective comforting to his host.
As they penetrated deeper into the woods the driver exhibited an increasing desire to talk, and from time to time, Garth remarked, he glanced over his shoulder.
"None of my business," the man said, "but it's funny Mr. Alden's having company now."
Garth smiled. He was certainly on the threshold of a case he had been asked to enter wholly unprepared.
"Maybe you'll tell me why," he encouraged.
"Because," the driver answered, "although Mr. Alden stands to make a pile of money, he's paying for it in some ways. You didn't hear about his yacht?"
Garth shook his head.