Part 33

Newmark paused, his potato half-way to his plate.

“Kind of him,” said he after a moment. “Did he sign a contract?”

“It wasn't made out,” Orde reminded him. “I've the memoranda here. We'll make it out to-night. I am to bring it in Monday.”

“I see we're hung up here over Sunday,” observed Newmark. “No Sunday trains to Redding.”

Orde became grave.

“I know it. I tried to hurry matters to catch the six o'clock, but couldn't make it.” His round, jolly face fell sombre, as though a light within had been extinguished. After a moment the light returned. “Can't be helped,” said he philosophically.

They ate hungrily, then drifted out into the office again, where Orde lit a cigar.

“Now, let's see your memoranda,” said Newmark.

He frowned over the three simple items for some time.

“It's got me,” he confessed at last.

“What?” inquired Orde.

“What Heinzman is up to.”

“What do you mean?” asked Orde, turning in his chair with an air of slow surprise.

“It all looks queer to me. He's got something up his sleeve. Why should he take a bond with that security from us? If we can't deliver the logs, our company fails; that makes the stock worthless; that makes the bond worthless--just when it is needed. Of course, it's as plain as the nose on your face that he thinks the proposition a good one and is trying to get control.”

“Oh, no!” cried Orde, astounded.

“Orde, you're all right on the river,” said Newmark, with a dry little laugh, “but you're a babe in the woods at this game.”

“But Heinzman is honest,” cried Orde. “Why, he is a church member, and has a class in Sunday-school.”

Newmark selected a cigar from his case, examined it from end to end, finally put it between his lips. The corners of his mouth were twitching quietly with amusement.

“Besides, he is going to buy some stock,” added Orde, after a moment.

“Heinzman has not the slightest intention of buying a dollar's worth of stock,” asserted Newmark.

“But why--”

“--Did he make that bluff?” finished Newmark. “Because he wanted to find out how much stock would be issued. You told him it would be a hundred thousand dollars, didn't you?”

“Why--yes, I believe I did,” said Orde, pondering. Newmark threw back his head and laughed noiselessly.

“So now he knows that if we forfeit the bond he'll have controlling interest,” he pointed out.

Orde smoked rapidly, his brow troubled.

“But what I can't make out,” reflected Newmark, “is why he's so sure we'll have to forfeit.”

“I think he's just taking a long shot at it,” suggested Orde, who seemed finally to have decided against Newmark's opinion. “I believe you're shying at mare's nests.”

“Not he. He has some good reason for thinking we won't deliver the logs. Why does he insist on putting in a date for delivery? None of the others does.”