when
th' state tuk a notion t' sink a few s'perfluous millyuns in this ole
ditch."

The listener became all attention.

"Queer doin's I seen long erbout then. Contractors is a scand'lous
lot. Many's the load o' dirt I seen hauled out thet easy, whut th'
state paid fer ez blasted rock. My, yes. But my party wuzn't workin'
at contractin'; he wuz workin' at contractors, an' he knew 'em, lock,
stock, and bar'l. He jes' owned th' whole blim pack. Thet's where his
rake-off come in. 'Twant all dirt them daisies tuk out. There wuz as
fustclass sandstun ez my party ever shipped f'm his quarry, an' f'm his
quarry docks it went."

"You mean that this man connived with the contractors to misappropriate
state property?"

"I 'magine I do."

"And your party is Shelby?"

"Never said no sech thing."

"It's what you imply clearly enough. Now, if you wish to help us, as
you told Mr. Sprague, you must say precisely who and what you mean, and
swear to it before Mr. Sprague, who is a notary public."

Jasper straightened.

"Fer nothin'?" His tone was inimitable.

Bernard Graves looked him coldly in the eye.

"We're not bribing people."

The loafer raised his hulking body and leered over him; the young man
got upon his feet, half expecting assault.

"Anything we can do for you in a legitimate way, we will do," he added
steadily.

"I want t' know."

"You can find me at Mr. Sprague's office any morning between ten and
twelve."

Jasper Hinchey surveyed him with scorn as he turned to go. Fumbling in
his rags, he extracted a greasy card.

"P'r'aps you'd buy a twenty-five cent ticket fer th' Jolly Rovers'
picnic," he insinuated. "Mebbe it's not too stiff fer yer purse. They
say ez how 'tis well lined, Mr. Graves."

"Do you know that the Penal Code makes soliciting a candidate to buy
tickets a misdemeanor?"

Hinchey smirked.

"A party whut I know buys 'em without askin'," said he.

Jasper Hinchey did not call at the _Whig_ office any morning between
ten o'clock and twelve. It developed that he was engaged in some not
too arduous labor at the quarries of the Eureka Sandstone Company.

CHAPTER III

Had the fantastic bolt of the Sprague clique been left to its own
courses, Shelby would have borrowed no further trouble, but a
fortuitous matter of radishes and ice-water suddenly put the quarrel on
an altogether different level. About the hour when Bernard Graves
hobnobbed with Jasper Hinchey, the thi