“Mr. Prenter,” asked Tom suddenly, “is there anything about which you wish to see me just now?”

“Not particularly,” replied the treasurer.  “Only, in view of late developments I’m going to remain about for the next few days, unless you order me out of the house.  I want to be close to the trouble.”

“Then, if I’m not needed,” gaped Reade, “I’m going to turn in and steal a little sleep.  I need rest.”

“As I’m going to stay up to-night, Tom, and keep you company through the dark hours, I’m for the bale of lint, too,” announced Lieutenant Prescott.

“At what hour shall I call you?” asked Harry.

“At eight o’clock to-night,” answered Tom.

Refreshed by a few hours’ sleep Tom and Dick were called, to find their supper ready.  Nicolas stood behind their chairs, attentive to their needs.

Mr. Prenter remained out on the porch, but Harry sat at table with his friends.

“Has Mr. Bascomb put in an appearance here?” Tom inquired.

“No,” said Hazelton briefly.

“He certainly has wound up my curiosity,” murmured Tom.  “Why on earth should he bail out Evarts?”

“Probably because Evarts asked him to,” suggested Dick.

“But why should he want to please Evarts in such a matter?”

“Well, you know,” hinted Harry, “we’ve heard that Evarts is some sort of relative to Mr. Bascomb.”

“But the rascal has been working to ruin this company,” Tom protested, “and Mr. Bascomb is the trusted president of the company.”

“Yet is Mr. Bascomb really fit to be trusted?” Prescott propounded.

“Mr. Prenter seems to think so, and he is a capable judge of men,” Tom rejoined.  “It is the combination of all these circumstances taken together that makes me so curious over Mr. Bascomb’s being willing to bail the fellow.”

“Oh, well, it’s too much of a puzzle for us,” said Harry, shrugging his shoulders.  “All we’ve got to do is to keep our eyes open and faithfully guard the property that is entrusted to our care.  However, I’m growing sour and sore.  Here I’ve got to go to bed presently, and you and Dick are going to be prowling about all night.  You’ll have all the excitement, while I’ll be in bed.”

“You seem to forget,” Tom reminded him, “that the last big excitement took place in the daytime, during your shift.  Dick and I may have a lazy night, and you may have the air full of wreckage to-morrow in broad daylight.”

They chatted a little while with Mr. Prenter, outside, and then Dick rose at Tom’s signal.

“We must be starting,” said Reade.  “I don’t know just what we’re going to do to-night, but we have miles to cover I’m afraid.”

“Being an army officer, Dick, you’ve got a pistol, of course,” suggested Harry hopefully.

“I’ve a brace of them,” nodded the army man.

“Good!” cheered Harry.

“But both of them, unloaded at that, are in my trunks at Mobile,” laughed Dick, whereat Tom chuckled.  Harry Hazelton was much inclined to want to carry a pistol in times of danger, but Tom didn’t believe in any such habit.

“I thought soldiers went armed,” muttered Hazelton ruefully.

“Only when on duty,” Dick informed him.

Nicolas wistfully watched Reade out of sight.  The Mexican had been ordered to remain at home to-night, and on no account to think of following his employer.  That didn’t at all agree with the faithful fellow’s wishes.

“They’ll be sure to get into some trouble, Senor Hazelton,” Nicolas said mournfully.  “I should be on their flank, watching over them.”

“You don’t know Gridley boys,” laughed Harry, “if you don’t understand that Dick Prescott and Tom Reade, together, are a hard team to beat.”

In the meantime Tom led the way down to the camp of workmen.  Reade stopped to speak with one of his reliable negroes, whom he found softly strumming a banjo under a tree.

“Are there any visitors in camp to-night who shouldn’t be here?” asked Tom.

“I doan’ beliebe so, boss,” replied the colored man.  “Dem gamblers an’ bootleggers ain’ done got bail yet, has they, sah?”

“I don’t believe they have,” replied Tom.  “There are no others of their kind here, then?”

“I doan’ beliebe so, sah.”

Tom and Dick strolled through the camp, but all was quiet there.  Many of the men were outside their shacks or tents, smoking and waiting for turning-in time to come.

“Looks as orderly as a camp-meeting,” declared Lieutenant Prescott.  “I’m glad to see, Tom, that you’re for the decent camp every time.”

“The decent camp is the only kind that contains efficient workmen for engineering jobs,” Reade answered dryly.

Presently they strolled out of camp, on the farther side.  This was what the young engineer really wanted to do-to vanish suddenly, in a fashion that would not be likely to be noted by hostile eyes.  Now Reade and his army chum proceeded softly, and without words.  Through the deep woods Tom was heading for the spot where he had found the magneto.

Sambo Ebony was at large, and Tom believed that other things than the magneto had been concealed at this spot.  If Sambo intended any further assaults on the retaining wall he would be quite likely to come this way.  So here Tom Reade was resolved to remain and watch, even if he had to put in most of the night there.

Behind some bushes he and Dick found a hiding place looking out upon the scene of the late conflict with “Mr. Ebony.”

Without even whispered conversation time dragged slowly.  More than an hour dragged by, and both watchers were beginning to feel decidedly bored.

At last, however, footsteps came that way.  Both watchers crouched lower and waited.

The new-comer approached the place rather uncertainly.  At last, however, he stood revealed.  Tom Reade felt like yelling in his utter astonishment.

For President Bascomb, of the Melliston Company, now stood before them.  After a glance about Mr. Bascomb walked slowly up and down, as though he were waiting for some one.

Dick, of course, did not know Mr. Bascomb.  However, as Tom kept silent the young soldier did the same.

“What on earth can Bascomb be doing here?” Tom wondered.  “Is he, too, one of the conspirators?  It is unbelievable!  Yet with what speed he obeyed Evarts’s summons to come and bail him out!  It makes me feel like a sneak to be here spying on the president of the company that employs me-and yet there’s something here that certainly must be looked into!”

Fifteen minutes more dragged by, with Mr. Bascomb walking impatiently back and forth, occasionally heaving a deep sigh or catching at his breath.

“Our worthy president is much excited, at any rate,” Reade said to himself.

Finally steps were heard, both by Bascomb and by the pair who watched him.  Then another man came upon the scene.

“Evarts, why on earth did you send for me?” demanded Mr. Bascomb, as the discharged foreman came up.

“Because I knew you’d be here-you don’t dare do otherwise,” was the sneering reply.

“Try not to be impudent about it,” advised Mr. Bascomb mildly.  “As you may remember, I’ve had to stand a lot from you.”

“And not as much as you might have to stand, either, if I took it into my head to make matters lively for you,” jeered Evarts harshly.  “Remember, man, you’ll do as I want you to do.”

“I’m willing to do what I can for you,” replied the president.  “But-”

“Now, don’t throw any of your ‘buts’ at me,” broke in the discharged foreman, roughly.  “You failed me in one thing-you didn’t make Reade take me back on the job, as I told you to do.”

“I couldn’t,” pleaded Mr. Bascomb.  “Prenter stood with Reade and was against me.”

“You’re the president of the company, aren’t you?” Evarts demanded sullenly.

“Yes; but Prenter is a bigger man in the company, and he has more influence with the board of directors.  If Prenter came out against me, and persuaded the other directors that I was a bad asset for the company, they’d act on Prenter’s suggestion and remove me from the presidency.”

“Humph!” jeered Evarts.  “Then what would your directors do if they knew that –.”

“Stop!” begged Mr. Bascomb hoarsely, “Don’t say a word further, man!  Sometimes even the leaves on the trees have ears.  Don’t breathe a word of what you were going to say just now.”

Even in the dark the two concealed watchers could see that Bascomb was glancing about him nervously.

“Now, what is up?” gasped Tom inwardly.  “What part has Mr. Bascomb been playing in this mystery that he’s so afraid of having become public?”