"
Clifford drew the folded paper from his vest pocket and gave it to Mr.
Stanlock. The latter held it close to the lamp and read.
"That's Jake, my driver; it's his handwriting I'm certain. What did be
want to do that for? He must be in league with the worst element of
the strikers. Probably they paid him well for this, or promised him a
tempting bribe."
Mr. Stanlock mused thus aloud as he studied over the note. The
situation puzzled him. What ought he to do? Of course, he must have
the driver arrested, and there must be an investigation by the police.
But, would it be safe for him to trust Jake to drive him home?
Probably it would be safe enough, for doubtless the driver had no
desire to be openly connected with the plot.
He was about decided to return home with the driver and say nothing to
him about the note, when a slight noise at the entrance attracted the
attention of all. Listening carefully, they could hear the sound of
retreating footsteps.
"That's Jake," Mr. Stanlock exclaimed. "He overheard us. After him, or
he'll run away with the machine."
The rush for the entrance threatened to cause some confusion and delay
in getting out.
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