“Item Two: The equipment supposedly found in the mine after the accident was old, used junk. Those men were professionals, Mr. Donner. They’d never have gone below the surface with second-rate machinery.

“Item Three: Though he made it known to everyone that he was reopening the mine, my uncle never once consulted or discussed the project with Ernest Bloeser, the man who owned the Little Angel. In short, my uncle was claim jumping. An unthinkable act to a man of his moral reputation.

“Item Four: The first warning of possible disaster didn’t come until the next afternoon, when the foreman of the Satan Mine, one Bill Mahoney, found a note under his cabin door that said, `Help! Little Angel Mine. Come Quick!’ A most strange method to sound an alarm, don’t you think? Naturally, the note was unsigned.

“Item Five: The sheriff in Central City stated that my uncle had given him a list of the crew’s names with the request that he give it to the newspapers in case of a fatal accident. An odd premonition, to say the least. It was as if Uncle Joshua wanted to be certain there was no mistaking the victims’ identities.”

Donner pushed back his plate and drank a glass of water. “I find your theory intriguing, but not fully convincing.”

“Ali, but finally, perhaps above all, Mr. Donner, I have saved the piece de resistance until last.

“Item Six Several months after the tragedy, my mother and father, who were on a tour through Europe, saw my uncle standing on the boat-train platform in Southampton, England. My mother often related how she went up to him and said, `God in heaven, Joshua, is it really you?’ The face that stared back at her was bearded and deathly white, the eyes glassy. `Forget me,’ he whispered and then turned and ran. My father chased him down the platform but soon lost him in the crowd.”

“The logical answer is a simple case of mistaken identity.”

“A sister who doesn’t know her own brother?” Young said sarcastically. “Come now, Mr. Donner, surely you could pick your brother out of a crowd?”

“‘Fraid not. I was an only child.”

“A shame. You missed one of life’s great joys.”

“At least I didn’t have to share my toys.” The check arrived and Donner threw a credit card on the tray. “So what you’re saying is that the Little Angel disaster was a cover-up.”

“That’s my theory.” Young patted his mouth with his napkin. “No way of proving it, of course, but I’ve always had a haunting feeling that the Societe des Mines de Lorraine was in back of it.”

“Who were they?”

“They were and still are to France whit Krupp is to Germany, what Mitsubichi is to Japan, what Anaconda is to the United States.”

“Where does the Societe— whatever you call it— fit in?”