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92 and better on track. The quality grades up to average—Hastily, John."

"P.S. I'm well, happy and busy. Love to mother."

Rowe's eyes went back over the paragraphs and his brows contracted a bit. Old Luke was very still a moment; then he said grimly:

"Read that again."

Rowe did, his voice not just steady.

"There's a trick somewhere. Call Bender!"

On the telephone Rowe got the head of the lumber firm.

"Mr. Bender, this is Rowe, Mr. Luke Taylor's secretary—"

"Bookkeeper! Bookkeeper!" mumbled Luke irritably.

"—and I'm inquiring about lumber from Blueberry County—You did—Yes, Mr. John Taylor—you. Thank you, sir—"

He turned to Luke. "They bought all right."

"At that price?"

"Yes, sir."

The old man wriggled as nearly erect as his back would permit and smote the floor a stout blow with his cane.

"Sellin' the lumber, Rowe! Sellin' lumber! When McLellan had the best men he knows about on the job and they reported it was a dead loss! He's took logs that nobody'd touch and 's makin' 'em into lumber an' sellin' it green under my nose!"

His words gave way to a spasm of wheezy laughter and he waved his cane.

"I don't understand it," snapped Rowe.

"Understand! Understand it? Why, damn it, it's as plain as a mole on a pretty girl's chin! The young