TIME TO BAKE THE PIE
TED put through his call to Mr. Dobson and explained matters briefly. It seemed to the editor that it would be best for him to come up to East Walton at once. As Ted relayed this information to Nelson, he felt he had taken on a good deal of responsibility. Never before had he run to his editor for help in quite this manner, but they were facing a grave situation.
Since it would be several hours before Mr. Dobson would arrive, they had supper, and then Ted went to work at his story in a desultory fashion, while Nelson puttered with his pictures and other odds and ends.
When a knock came on the door, they knew it was too soon for Mr. Dobson. Rising to answer, Ted hoped fervently that it wouldn’t be Phil, for he didn’t yet know what to do about him.
But it was Professor Thomas.
“I’m not going to give you my name, because I’m sure you know it already. I’ve got that much respect for your detective ability.”
“And I might add the same about you,” Ted conceded.
“Yes, I was wondering who those two persons were who frightened me away from my lunch in the mine. I wasn’t sure, until I noticed your unusual interest in me in the park. Just what attracted you?”
“The orange lunch box,” Nelson explained.
Professor Thomas laughed. “So that was it. I hadn’t thought you came far enough into the room to discover it. At any rate I decided it would be just as well to let you get my license number, while I waited outside the parking lot to get yours.”
Then the three of them laughed together as the professor fitted names to faces.
“Ted,” he began, “I might say that though I’ve never met your Mr. Dobson, I’ve heard a good deal about him, and have the highest respect for him. Now let me ask you a question: what do you know about the coal pirates?”
“I understand there is a continuous operation going on down there,” said Ted.
“There’s the cautious journalist. Continuous, of course, but on how large a scale? Do you know how they are hauling their coal away?”
Ted studied the professor and could see that he already knew about the barge.
“I believe they do it on the river.”
“Of course, of course.” Professor Thomas nodded his approval. “I see I didn’t make a mistake in coming here. Now why is it that Mr. Winslow isn’t worried about the pirate operation?”
“Because he doesn’t know about the barge?”
“Right, Ted. Any other reason?”
“Not that I know of,” said Ted in surprise.
“Well, it’s a relief to me that I do know something you don’t know. The truth is, Ted, that even if Mr. Winslow knew about the barge I don’t think he would be greatly concerned. He would still figure it couldn’t be a big enough operation to worry about. But he would be wrong. There’s a big secret down there that he doesn’t know about.
“I’m sure that the pirates began on a small scale and in a quite random fashion, digging a little here and a little there, without getting away with much. But that isn’t what they are doing now. The digging is all centralized at a certain location. The pirates discovered a rich new vein of coal of better quality than the mine was producing before, and in a location that offers fewer engineering problems. I’m certain that if Mr. Winslow knew about this fresh lode, he would have reopened the mine years ago. He couldn’t afford to keep it shut.”
“Well!” Ted was flabbergasted, and Nelson shared his amazement. They had thought that Mr. Sorrel’s million-dollar secret was large, but this seemed to be even bigger.
“I’m a geologist and not an engineer, but I’m pretty sure of what I’m talking about.” He drew several sheets of paper from his pocket and handed them to Ted. “Here’s my preliminary report on the matter. You may keep that copy. The figures and things may not mean much to you, but if you were to take them to a competent engineer, I’m sure he would back me up.”
“May I publish your report, Professor Thomas?”
“Certainly, you may, and call it mine. I have some reputation in my field, and I don’t think this matter would be dismissed lightly.”
“This is extremely kind of you, Professor,” said Ted, gratefully. “I’m not used to having scoops like this dropped in my lap.”
The professor laughed. “I’m not dropping it in your lap, Ted. You smoked me out. Didn’t you discover me in the mine? I suppose the vacationing geology professor puttering around in a coal mine would form an amusing anecdote. However, if you are going to mention me at all, I would prefer to have my work properly appreciated. It was my intention to release my figures a little later, and in a different fashion, but you forced my hand.”
Ted still felt overwhelmed by the story the professor had given him. Ted invited him to stay until Mr. Dobson arrived, and he agreed. When the editor arrived, they had an interesting talk. Finally, the professor stood up and announced he had to go. He made his farewells, waving aside the thanks they tried to thrust upon him.
“I’m sure we haven’t heard the last of this matter,” he said with a grin. “We’ll be meeting again.”
Then Mr. Dobson and the boys settled down to discuss the situation. After the boys had explained in greater detail just what had occurred, Mr. Dobson had something to add.
“I think I can supply the last link. Phil did know you were coming to East Walton. After you left, I decided it would be better for me to call him and smooth things over for you.” He paused. “Let’s invite both Phil and Mr. Sorrel over here for a conference. I have an idea they’ll come.”
This prediction was correct, and a little later they all sat down in the cabin, having borrowed extra chairs from the motel manager.
“An editor often faces certain problems,” Mr. Dobson began. “I don’t expect you to solve my problems for me, but sometimes it helps to consult the persons most directly concerned, just to see how they feel about things.
“I want to tell you about a young man I know. I may even know a little more about him than he realizes. I also know his father. The father was willing to train the boy in the profession that he himself followed, if that was what the boy wanted, even though it meant considerable sacrifice. So the boy went to college, but he didn’t stay there long. He has let it be known that he left for lack of money, but this isn’t the truth. He flunked out. I have only one explanation for it: that the young man thought he saw a better way to get started without the work and self-sacrifice a professional career would have demanded: in short, by blackmail.”
Mr. Sorrel started and gave Phil a sharp look. Phil was sitting without moving, giving no hint of what he was thinking.
“I don’t think it necessary just now to go into the nature, method, or victim of this blackmail. I’ll pass on instead to a matter that directly concerns my newspaper. Two of my employees were suspected of participation in a robbery because of a gun that was planted on them. It now appears that this gun, previously reported stolen, was in fact never stolen, and that there never was a robbery.” He looked at Phil.
“Yes, there was a robbery,” Phil insisted. “I made a mistake about the gun, though. It was put away in a different place, so I reported it stolen. Later I found it, but I didn’t report I’d found it to the police, as I suppose I should.”
“That’s a good story, Phil,” Mr. Dobson went on. “A few hours ago I wouldn’t have dreamed of questioning it. Now I just don’t know. At least I ask that you make a report to the police, and admit that you planted the gun on my men. Will you do that, Phil?”
“Yes, sir, I will.” Phil’s manner was neither disrespectful nor sullen. He was simply reserved. He did not deny the charges, nor admit the blackmail.
“Why did you do it, Phil?” Ted asked him.
“I felt that the story belonged to me,” he answered, but no one believed him. The story seemed a small thing; it was exposure about the blackmailing that he feared.
Then Phil got to his feet. “Is that all, sir? Do you have anything else to say?”
“No. I will, of course, check with the police before I leave East Walton, to make sure you do report the matter.”
After Phil left, they stared a moment at the closed door.
“What will happen to him now?” Ted speculated.
Mr. Dobson sighed. “He may have learned his lesson and go back to his career. Or he might go from this to something worse. It’s really up to him.”
He turned to Mr. Sorrel. “You weren’t considering a prosecution over the blackmail, were you?”
“How could I? My own hands are none too pure in this business. And it would be difficult to prove in court. I’m willing to forget about what he took from me.”
“I’d feel more generous about it if he had wanted the money for his education.” Nelson pointed out.
“And now we’re faced with your problem, Mr. Sorrel,” Mr. Dobson went on. “Have you decided what you’re going to do?”
“What can I do? I knew after I talked with Ted last night, something that I probably suspected right along, that I couldn’t get away with it. As time went on there was a greater and greater chance that someone would discover that tunnel. I once advised Mr. Winslow to take his losses and go on from there. It might be a good thing for me to take my own advice.”
“I’m no lawyer, Mr. Sorrel, so I can’t advise you, but I feel that if you did sell property that had a secret and dangerous defect, you might find yourself in trouble.”
“But that’s the whole point,” Mr. Sorrel protested. “There is no danger. The explosion cleared up the gas pocket, and even then the surface wasn’t disturbed.”
“Have you ever had an official inspection of that old mine to make sure of that?”
“Well, no, how could I do that? I was relying on my own knowledge of the situation.”
“Then I think you should get some official safety certificates. Maybe it will be necessary to redesign your plans so that no house will be actually built over a tunnel.”
Mr. Sorrel acknowledged this argument with a nod.
“There’s something else, too,” Ted pointed out. “You can prove now that you didn’t set off the explosion.”
“How can I prove that, Ted?”
“Because you were the last person in the world who would have wanted to open a tunnel between the two mines, and possibly reveal the trouble with your own property.”
“You’re right, Ted. Maybe it’s best to get back in step with the rest of the community.”
After Mr. Sorrel had left, Mr. Dobson read through all Ted’s notes. They discussed the article—or series of articles—Ted would do, and then he added:
“I think I’m going to break out into a front-page editorial, boys. This mine could have been opened years ago. Mr. Winslow could have opened it, but he was hoping for financial help from the state. The unions wanted it open, but demanded an agreement about job protection from automation first. The coal pirates could have opened it by reporting that new seam, but they were doing well enough with their relief checks and what they made on their pirating, and were afraid if the mine opened they’d lose out to automation. I think Mr. Sorrel would have liked it opened, but he was more concerned with his own projects.
“My point is that the mine stayed closed because there was no one big enough to open it. Everyone was so concerned with dividing up the pie that the pie was never baked. Now it’s time to get it in the oven.”
Several weeks later Nelson waited outside the building where the legislature was meeting, with more patience than he usually showed. That series of articles in the Town Crier, under the by-line of Ted Wilford, had created quite a stir, and a committee had been appointed to investigate the East Walton situation. Professor Thomas had been an earlier witness, and Ted was the next one called.
“How did you make out?” asked Nelson, as Ted finally appeared.
“Pretty well, I guess. They not only wanted to know everything I know, but how I knew it, and what I proposed doing about it.”
“What do you think, Ted?”
“Oh, they’re a shrewd, hard-hitting bunch, with no nonsense about them. They intend to get to the bottom of this business. I believe they’re seriously determined to do something about East Walton, and something will get done. I bet that mine will be open again soon.”
“Then I guess we really did something to help the Llewellyn children. If the pie is big enough, they’ll get their share.”
“And I’m glad to hear that Phil is going back to college,” Ted added.
About to start the car, Nelson remembered something. “Ted, I forgot to show you this.”
He opened his wallet and showed Ted a picture. It was a close-up of Alice.
“Did you ever see anything as pretty as that?”
Ted looked at the big, floppy ears, the droopy, sleepy eyes, the shaggy hair and grizzled muzzle. But he remembered that as they had come out of the blackness of the mine, Alice’s face was the first thing they had seen, growing brighter as they walked beside her and approached the tunnel mouth.
“Make me a copy, my boy. She’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”