The Iron Trail Part 49

"I thought so. I merely wished to make certain. Well, the whole thing is in the papers."

Appleton laid his hand upon the table to steady himself.

"Then it--didn't come from her. She wouldn't--"

"Gordon has spread the story broadcast. It couldn't have come from any other source; it couldn't have reached him in any other way, for none of my boys has breathed a word." His voice rose despite his effort at self-control. "Illis's agreement was ILLEGAL," he said, savagely; "it will probably forfeit the charter of the North Pa.s.s or land him in court. I suppose you realize that! I discovered his secret and a.s.sured him it was safe with me; now you peddle it to Gordon, and the whole thing is public. Here's the first result." He shook the London cablegram in Dan's face, and his own was distorted with rage. There was a stir in Eliza's room which neither noticed. Appleton wiped his face with uncertain hand; he moistened his lips to say:

"I--I'm terribly sorry! But I'm sure Natalie wouldn't spy--I don't remember what I told her, or how I came to know about the affair. Doc Gray told me, I think, in the first excitement, but--G.o.d! She--wouldn't knowingly--"

"Gordon fired you for talking too much. I thought you had learned your lesson, but it seems you hadn't. Don't blame Miss Gerard for pumping you--her loyalty belongs to Gordon now. But I require loyalty, too.

Since you lack it you can go."

O'Neil turned as Eliza's door opened; she stood before him, pale, frightened, trembling.

"I couldn't help hearing," she said. "You discharge us?"

He nodded. "I'm sorry! I've trusted my 'boys' so implicitly that the thought of betrayal by them never occurred to me. I can't have men close to me who make such mistakes as this."

"Perhaps there was--an excuse, or the shadow of one, at least. When a man is in love, you know--"

Murray wheeled upon Dan and demanded sharply:

"What's this?" Then in a noticeably altered tone he asked, "Do you love--Natalie?"

"Yes."

"Does she love you?"

"No, sir!"

O'Neil turned back to the girl, saying: "I told Dan, when I hired him, that he would be called upon to dare much, to suffer much, and that my interests must be his. He has disregarded them, and he must go. That's all. There's little difference between treachery and carelessness."

"It's--too bad," said the girl, faintly. Dan stood stiff and silent, wholly dazed by the sudden collapse of his fortunes.

"I'm not ungrateful for what you've done, Appleton," O'Neil went on. "I intend to pay you well for the help you gave me. You took a chance at the Canon and at Gordon's Crossing. You'll get a check."

"I don't want your d.a.m.ned money," the other gulped. "I've drawn my wages."

"Nevertheless, I shall pay you well. It's highly probable that you've wrecked the S. R. & N. and ruined me, but I don't intend to forget my obligations to you. It's unfortunate. Call on the cas.h.i.+er in the morning. Good night."

He left them standing there unhappily, dumb and stiff with shame. Once outside the house, he plunged down the hill as if fleeing from the scene of some crime. He rushed through the night blindly, for he had loved his a.s.sistant engineer, and the memory of that chalk-faced, startled girl hurt him abominably.

When he came to the company office he was walking slowly, heavily. He found Gray inside and dropped into a chair: his face was grimly set, and he listened dully to the physician's rambling talk.

"I fired Appleton!" he broke out, at last. Gray looked up quickly. "He acknowledged that he--did it. I had no choice. It came hard, though.

He's a good boy."

"He did some great work, Chief!"

"I know! That affair at the Crossing--I intend to pay him well, if he'll accept. It's not that--I like those kids, Stanley. Eliza took it harder than he. It wasn't easy for me, either," he sighed, wearily.

"I'd give ten thousand dollars if it hadn't happened. She looked as if I'd struck her."

"What did they say?"

"Nothing. He has been careless, disloyal--"

"You told them so?"

O'Neil nodded.

"And they said nothing?"

"Nothing! What could they say?"

Gray answered gruffly: "They might have said a good deal. They might have told you how they paid off your men and saved a walk-out when I had no money."

O'Neil stared incredulously. "What are you talking about?" he demanded.

When he had the facts he rose with an exclamation of dismay.

"G.o.d! Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't they speak out? I--I--why, that's loyalty of the finest kind. All the money they had saved, too--when they thought I had failed! Jove! That was fine. Oh, I'm sorry! I wonder what they think of me? I can't let Dan go after that.

I--" He seized his cap and hurried out of the building.

"It's hardly right--when things were going so well, too!" said Dan. He was sitting crumpled up in a chair, Eliza's arm encircling his shoulders. "I didn't mean to give up any secrets, but--I'm not myself when I'm with Natalie."

"We must take our medicine," his sister told him, gravely. "We deserve it, for this story may spoil all he's done. I didn't think it of her, though."

Dan groaned and bowed his head in his hands. "I don't know which hurts worse," he said--"his anger or her action. She--couldn't do such a thing, Sis; she just couldn't!"

"She probably didn't realize--she hasn't much sense, you know. But after all he's suffered, to think that we should injure him! I could cry. I think I shall."

The door opened before a rough hand, and O'Neil strode into the room, huge, s.h.a.ggy in his c.o.o.nskin coat. They rose, startled, but he came to them swiftly, a look of mingled shame and gladness in his face.

"I've come back to apologize," he cried. "I couldn't wait. I've learned what you children did while I was gone, and I've come to beg forgiveness. It's all right--it's all right."

"I don't know what you mean," Dan gasped.

"Doc told me how you paid those men. That was real friends.h.i.+p; it was splendid. It touched me, and I--I want to apologize. You see, I hurried right back."

They saw that his eyes were moist, and at the sight Eliza gave a quivering cry, then turned swiftly to hide her face. She felt O'Neil's fur-clad arm about her shoulder; his hand was patting her, and he was saying gently: "You are a dear child. It was tremendously good of you both, and I--ought to be shot for acting as I did. I wonder if you can accept a wretched apology as bravely as you accepted a wrong accusation."

"It wasn't wrong; it was right," she sobbed. "Dan told her, and she told Gordon."

"There, there! I was to blame, after all, for letting any one know, and if Dan made a mistake he has more than offset it by his unselfishness--his sacrifices. It seems I forgot how much I really owe him."

"That affair with the s.h.i.+ft bosses wasn't anything," said Dan, hastily, "and it was all Eliza's idea. I refused at first, but when she started to pay them herself I weakened." He stuttered awkwardly, for his sister was motioning him desperately to be silent; but he ran on: "Oh, he ought to know the whole truth and how rotten I acted, Sis. I deserve to be discharged."

"Please don't make this any harder for me than it is," Murray smiled.

"I'm terribly embarra.s.sed, for I'm not used to apologies. I can't afford to be unjust; I--have so few friends that I want to cherish them. I'm sorry you saw me in such a temper. Anger is a treacherous thing, and it always betrays me. Let's forget that I was here before and pretend that I just came to thank you for what you did." He drew Dan into the shelter of his other arm and pressed the two young people to him. "I didn't realize how deeply you kids care for each other and for me."