need of their being recognized."

"Then why didn't Fred Ransom, of the Colthwaite Company, cover up the
scar on his chin?" retorted Reade. "Why didn't Ashby, of the Mansion
House, invent a new style of walking for the occasion?"

Both men named drew hastily back into the shadow. Tom chuckled quietly.

"I could name a few others," Tom continued carelessly. "In fact--I
think I know you all. Gentlemen, you might as well remove your masks."

"Club him with the butt of the gun, if he talks too much," Duff directed
the bully, who had stepped back a few paces as the men formed a circle
around the young engineer.

"Did you ever try to stop water from running down hill, Duff," Tom
inquired good-humoredly.

"What has that to do with--" began the gambler angrily.

"Nothing very much," Tom admitted. "Only it's a waste of time to try to
bind my tongue. The only thing you can do is to gag me; but, from some
things you've let drop, I judge that you want me to do some of the
talking presently."

"We do," nodded Duff, seeking to regain his temper. "However, it won't
do you any good to attempt to do your talking before you've heard me."

"If I've been interfering with your rights, then I certainly owe you an
apology," Tom answered, with mock gravity. "May I beg you to begin your