Duff departed in a finicky mood. A nasty doubt was growing within him as to the degree of co-operation he might expect from the Kam City Pulp and Paper Mills’ lawyer, a doubt engendered by Winch’s apathetic attitude. No doubt Martin Winch, K.C., in common with many others, entertained a wholesome respect for the uncanny power of the North Star Company and its penchant for sooner or later squaring accounts with those who became over-zealous in meddling with its affairs. The disappearance of Norman T. Gildersleeve, head of the parent company controlling the Kam City Company, at this critical moment had more than likely shattered the initiative of Winch, who seemed to have small confidence in Duff’s ability to cope single-handed with the cunning of the North Star. It might be, grimly speculated Duff, that Winch was seriously considering the matter of throwing up his retainer and allowing some other legal firm to appropriate the fee and the hazards that went with it.
THE first of the two surprises Louis Hammond experienced that evening he returned from the woods intending to take the tug to Kam City to interview Eulas Daly was that he was as good as marooned on the Nannabijou Limits. He sought out Mooney, the assistant superintendent, mentioning that he would like to secure a pass over to the city and back. Mooney issued most of the passes to the men travelling back and forward.
The assistant superintendent grinned wryly and shook his head. “You will have to see the Big Boss about it,” he said and resumed his cursory inspection of pole counters’ returns.
This was exceedingly aggravating, for the tug was almost ready to pull out and Acey Smith was not to be found. He did not show up at his office till long after the tug had gone out. Hammond followed him in, determined to secure a pass for the morning boat.
“I’d like to run over to the city on the tug in the morning,” he announced. “Mooney told me I’d have to see you about getting a pass.”
“I am very sorry to deny you your little holiday,” returned the other, “but for the present I can do no more for you than Mooney.”
“Then you are virtually making a prisoner of me?”
“I wouldn’t say that; you voluntarily made a prisoner of yourself,” reminded the superintendent. “You brought me a letter from J. J. Slack, president of the North Star Company, instructing me to keep you hidden here—at least that is what I gathered from its contents—and until I receive other instructions I must abide by that request.”
