"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