."

The detective smiled grimly.

"Wounded! Why, Griffin, do you think they would send a man who would
miss? Come, look at him."

Mark placed his hand over the young officer's heart. He felt for the
pulse, and looked into the face.

"Come, Saunders," he said, "we can do nothing for him."

CHAPTER XI

THIN ICE

"I don't think you quite realize, Griffin," Saunders' voice had quite
an uneasy tremor in it, as he spoke, "that you are in some danger."

The detective was sitting in Mark's bedroom, and the clock was striking
midnight in the hotel office below. They had returned together from
the bluff road and had been discussing the tragedy ever since.

"I think I do," Mark answered, "but I don't very much care."

"Then," said Saunders, "you English have some nerves!"

"You forget, Saunders, that I am not quite English. I am half Irish,
and the Irish have 'some nerves.' But I am really hit very hard. I
suppose it's the English in me that won't let me show it."

Saunders did not answer for a moment. Then he took his cigar out of
his mouth.

"Nerves?" he repeated half laughingly. "Yes, nerves they have, but in
the singular number."

"Beg pardon?"

"Oh, I forgot that your education in United States has been sadly
neglected. I mean to say that they have _nerve_, not nerves."

"By which you mean--?"

"Something that you will need very soon--grit."

"I--I don't quite understand yet, my dear fellow. Why?"

The face of Saunders was serious now. The danger that confronted both
of them was no chimera.

"Look here, Griffin," he broke out, "that murderer did this thing under
orders. He either has had a story fixed up for him by his employers,
or he will try to put the deed off on someone else. An explanation
must be given when the body is discovered in the morning. All was
certainly foreseen, for these chaps take no chances. Now, you may
wager a lot that his superiors, or their representatives, are not far
away; no farther, in fact, than the railroad camp. You may be sure,
too, that their own secret service men are on the job, close by. The
question is, what story will this fellow tell?"

"You can--ah--search me, Saunders," retorted Mark.

Saunders laughed. Mark had a way of appearing cheerful.

"Come now, that's doing fine. 'Search you,' eh? That is just exactly
what the police probably will do."

"Why?"

"Why? Because your being there was the unforeseen part of the whole
trag