"Well?" McNally's coolness was leaving him. "Are you in control of this road, or aren't you?"

"I am."

"In that case"--he produced a paper--"it becomes my duty to relieve you."

Harvey looked at the paper; it was an order from Judge Black appointing McNally receiver for M. & T. Harvey handed it back, saying, coolly,--

"Sit down, Mr. McNally."

"I have no time to waste, West. You will please turn over the books."

"They are in the vault," said Harvey, pointing to the side door.

McNally looked sharply at Harvey, but the young man had turned to a pile of letters. After a moment's hesitation McNally opened the door and pulled at the steel gate. As he was peering through the bars, a heavy hand fell on his shoulder.

"Here!" said a low voice. "You'll have to keep away from that vault."

"Take your hand away!" McNally ordered.

"Come, now! Move on!"

"Mr. West, under whose orders is this man acting?"

"His superior officer's, I suppose," Harvey called through the door without rising.

"Call him at once, sir."

The detective beckoned to a boy, and sent him out of the room. In a moment his chief appeared.

"This man sent for you, Mr. Mallory," said the detective.

"What is it?" asked Mallory.

McNally bl.u.s.tered.

"I want to know what this means. Do you understand that I am the receiver of this road?"

"Oh, no, you aren't." Mallory stepped to the door. "Is this true, Mr.

West?"

"No," said Harvey, "it isn't."

"You'll have to leave, then, my friend."

"Don't you touch me!" McNally's face was growing red. For reply each detective seized an arm, and the protesting receiver was hustled unceremoniously out of the room.

An hour later McNally returned. He greeted the deputy with a suave smile, and requested an interview with Mr. West.

"I'm not sure about that," said the deputy.

"That is too bad," smiled McNally. "Kindly speak to Mr. West."

With a disapproving glance the deputy opened the door. Harvey came forward.

"Well," he said brusquely, "what can I do for you?"

McNally stepped through the door and seated himself.

"I've been thinking this matter over, Mr. West, and I believe that we can come to an understanding. If your claims are correct, the road has two receivers. You are nominally in possession, but, nevertheless, you are liable for contempt of court for refusing to honor my authority. Whichever way the case is settled, I am in a position to inconvenience you for resisting me."

He waited for a reply, but Harvey waited, too.

"In the interest of the road, Mr. West, it would be very much better for you to recognize me, even to the extent of having two receivers. It could not affect the outcome of the case, and it might avoid trouble."

"I can't agree with you," Harvey replied. "I shall retain control of the road until the case is settled."

McNally rose.

"Then, I warn you, you will have a big undertaking on your hands."

"I suppose so."

"Very well; good morning."

"Good morning, Mr. McNally."

At noon Harvey went out to lunch. He met Jim at the hotel, and told him what had happened. Jim smiled at Harvey's seriousness.

"The fight hasn't begun yet," he said. "When you've been through as many deals as I have"--he stopped and drew out his watch.

"It's one-thirty. You'd better get back. I'll go with you and look over the field."

As they walked through the waiting room Harvey fancied that he heard a noise from above. However, the noon express, out in the train shed, was blowing off steam with a roar, and he could not be positive. But Jim quickened his pace, and ran up the steps with surprising agility.

As they neared the second floor the noise grew. There was scuffling and loud talking, culminating in an uproar of profanity and blows. The first man they saw was McNally. He stood near the stairway, hat on the back of his head, face red but composed. Before him was a strange scene. Mallory and the big deputy stood with their backs to the Treasurer's door, tussling with three burly ruffians. Beyond the deputy, one of the detectives was standing off two men with well-placed blows. The two other detectives were rolling about the floor, each with a man firmly in his grasp. There was a great noise of feet, as the different groups swayed and struggled. In the excitement none of them saw Jim and Harvey, who stood for a moment on the top step.

A stiff blow caught the deputy's chin, and he staggered. With a quick motion Mallory whipped out a pair of handcuffs. There was a flash of steel as he drew back his arm, then the maddened rough went down in a heap, a stream of blood flowing from his head. One of the others, a red-haired man, gripped the handcuffs and fought for them. It all happened in an instant, and as Harvey stood half-dazed, he heard a breathless exclamation, and Jim had sprung forward.

Some persons might have thought Jim Weeks fat. He weighed two hundred and forty pounds, but he was tall and wide in the shoulder. On ordinary occasions his face was so composed as to appear almost cold-blooded, but now it was fairly livid. Harvey drew in his breath with surprise; he had seen Jim angry, but never like this. In three strides Jim was behind the red-haired man. He threw an arm around the man's neck, jerking his chin up with such force that his body bent backward, and relinquishing his hold on the handcuffs he clutched, gasping, at Jim's arm. But the arm gripped like iron. While Mallory was pulling himself together and turning to aid the deputy, Jim walked backward, dragging the struggling man to the head of the stairs. On the top step he paused to grip the man's trousers with his other hand, then he literally threw the fellow downstairs. Bruised and battered, he lay for a moment on the landing, then he struggled to his feet and moved his arm toward his hip pocket, but Jim was ready. The breathless President started down the stairs with a rush. For an instant the man wavered, then he broke and fled into the train shed.

On his return Jim had to step aside to avoid another ruffian, who was walking down with profane mutterings. This time Harvey had a hand in the fighting, and he leaned over the railing to answer the man's oaths with a threat of the law. Jim and Harvey stood aside while the four detectives and the deputy led the remainder of the gang downstairs to await the police.

From the various offices frightened faces were peering through half-open doors. A few stripling clerks appeared with belated offers of a.s.sistance, but Jim waved them back. Already Jim was cooling off. He could not afford to retain such a pa.s.sion, and he mopped his face and neck for a few moments without speaking. His breath was gone, but he began to recover it.

"h.e.l.lo," he said, at length, "where's McNally?"

Harvey started, then ran down the hall, glancing hastily into the different offices. When he returned, Jim had vanished. While he stood irresolute, two stalwart brakemen appeared from the train shed and stood on the landing. One of them called up,--