d the weak eyes turned toward the floor.

"I--was in on it."

That was enough. The sheriff reached for his keys. A moment more and
a steel door clanged upon the two men while the officer led the way to
his motor car. There he looked quizzically at Anita Richmond, piling
without hesitation into the front seat.

"You going too?"

"I certainly am," and she covered her intensity with a laugh, "there
are a number of things that I want to say to Mr. Maurice Rodaine--and I
have n't the patience to wait!"

Bardwell chuckled. The doors of the car slammed and the engine roared
louder than ever. Soon they were churning along through the driving
snow toward the great buildings of the Argonaut Tunnel Company, far at
the other end of town. There men awaited them, and a tram motor,
together with its operator,--happy in the expectation of a departure
from the usual routine of hauling out the long strings of ore and
refuse cars from the great tunnel which, driving straight through the
mountains, had been built in the boom days to cut the workings of mine
after mine, relieving the owners of those holdings of the necessity of
taking their product by the slow method of burro packs to the
railroads, and gaining for the company a freight business as enriching
as a bonanza itself. The four pursuers took their places on the
benches of the car behind the motor. The trolley was attached. A
great door was opened, allowing the cold blast of the blizzard to whine
within the tunnel. Then, clattering over the frogs, green lights
flashing from the trolley wire, the speeding journey was begun.

It was all new to Fairchild, engrossing, exciting. Close above them
were the ragged rocks of the tunnel roof, seeming to reach down as if
to seize them as they roared and clattered beneath. Seepage dripped at
intervals, flying into their faces like spray as they dashed through
it. Side tracks appeared momentarily when they passed the opening of
some mine where the ore cars stood in long lines, awaiting their turn
to be filled. The air grew warmer. The minutes were passing, and they
were nearing the center of the tunnel. Great gateways sped past them;
the motor smashed over sidetracks and spurs and switches as they
clattered by the various mine openings, the operator reaching above him
to hold the trolley steady as they went under narrow, low places where
the timbers had been placed, thick and heavy, to hold back the sagging
earth above.