Orton carefully weighed his reply.  “To begin with,” he answered at length, “while I was pushing the construction end, the Five-Borough was working with the state legislature to get a bill extending the time-limit of the franchise another year.  Of course, if it had gone through it would have been fine for us.  But some unseen influence blocked the company at every turn.  It was subtle; it never came into the open.  They played on public opinion as only demagogues of high finance can, very plausibly of course, but from the most selfish and ulterior motives.  The bill was defeated.”

I nodded.  I knew all about that part of it, for it was in the article which I had been writing for the Star.

“But I had not counted on the extra year, anyhow,” continued Orton, “so I wasn’t disappointed.  My plans were laid for the shorter time from the start.  I built an island in the river so that we could work from each shore to it, as well as from the island to each shore, really from four points at once.  And then, when everything was going ahead fine, and we were actually doubling the speed in this way, these confounded accidents”—­he was leaning excitedly forward—­“and lawsuits and delays and deaths began to happen.”

Orton sank back as a paroxysm of the bends seized him, following his excitement.

“I should like very much to go down into the tunnel,” said Kennedy simply.

“No sooner said than done,” replied Orton, almost cheerfully, at seeing Kennedy so interested.

“We can arrange that easily.  Paddy will be glad to do the honours of the place in my absence.”

“Indade I will do that same, sor,” responded the faithful Paddy, “an’ it’s a shmall return for all ye’ve done for me.”

“Very well, then,” agreed Kennedy.  “Tomorrow morning we shall be on hand.  Jack, depend on us.  We will do our level best to get you out of this scrape.”

“I knew you would, Craig,” he replied.  “I’ve read of some of your and Walter’s exploits.  You’re a pair of bricks, you are.  Good-bye, fellows,” and his hands mechanically sought the vase of flowers which reminded him of their giver.

At home we sat for a long time in silence.  “By George, Craig,” I exclaimed at length, my mind reverting through the whirl of events to the glimpse of pain I had caught on the delicate face of the girl leaving the hospital, “Vivian Taylor is a beauty, though, isn’t she?”

“And Capps thinks so, too,” he returned, sinking again into his shell of silence.  Then he suddenly rose and put on his hat and coat.  I could see the old restless fever for work which came into his eyes whenever he had a case which interested him more than usual.  I knew there would be no rest for Kennedy until he had finished it.  Moreover, I knew it was useless for me to remonstrate with him, so I kept silent.

“Don’t wait up for me,” he said.  “I don’t know when I’ll be back.  I’m going to the laboratory and the university library.  Be ready early in the morning to help me delve into this tunnel mystery.”