.

"That is your risk," said Blount coldly, making this small concession to
the expiring sense of uprightness. "You know how badly you want to 'get
square,' as you put it, and I am interested only in the results. If you
get caught, I sha'n't turn my hand over to help you--you can take that
straight. But if you show up here with the proofs, proofs that I can
use, any time before Saturday night, I'll undertake to see that you get
safely out of the State."

It was in the little pause which followed that some one in the corridor
rapped smartly on the locked door. At the sound, Gryson collapsed and
his face became an ashen mask of fear. Blount, the law-abiding, might
have hesitated, but this newer Blount had slain his scruples. Snatching
Gryson out of his chair, he thrust him silently through the half-open
door of the work-room, and a moment later he was answering the rap at
the corridor entrance, opening the door and calmly facing the two
policemen on the threshold.

"Well?" he said brusquely.

One of the men touched his helmet.

"We're looking for a felly that ducked in below a couple of hours ago,
Mr. Blount. He's in the building, somewheres, and your office being
lighted, we thought maybe you'd--"

Blount threw the door wide.

"You can see for yourselves," he said. "Would you like to come in and
look around?"

"Sure not; your word's as good as the search, Mr. Blount. 'Twas only on
the chance that he might have faked an excuse and ducked in on you to be
out of reach."

Blount left the door open and went to get his coat and hat.

"Who is the man?" he asked, while the officers lingered.

"A felly named Gryson. He's been working in the railroad shops what
times he wasn't pullin' off something crooked in the p'litical line."

"What is he wanted for?" Blount was closing his desk and preparing to
leave the office.

"Croaking a bank watchman up in Montana afther he'd souped the vault
door for a kick-shot."

"In that case, perhaps I'm lucky that he didn't drop in and croak me,"
laughed Blount, turning off the lights and joining the two men in the
corridor. And then: "There is a back stair to the engine-room in the
basement in the other wing of the building: have you been watching
that?"

The bigger of the two policemen prodded the other in the ribs with his
night-stick. "That's on us, Jakey. He'll have been gone hours ago. Let's
be drilling. 'Tis a fine mind ye have, Mr. Blount, to be thinking of
thim back st