"Three men dead in a flash," he growled. "Fifteen trapped. I don't need any more engineers. I need an undertaker. And a top-notch detective."

Hennessy whirled back to the telegrapher. "Has Van Dorn replied?"

"Not yet, sir. We've just sent--"

"Joe Van Dorn has agents in every city on the continent. Wire them all!"

Hennessy's daughter Lillian hurried in from their private quarters. Kincaid's eyes widened and his smile grew eager. Though on a dusty siding deep in the Cascade Range, she was dressed to turn heads in the finest dining rooms of New York. Her evening gown of white chiffon was cinched at her narrow waist and dipped low in front, revealing decolletage only partially screened by a silk rose. She wore a pearl choker studded with diamonds around her graceful neck, and her hair high in a golden cloud, with curls draping her high brow. Bright earrings of Peruzzi triple-cut brilliant diamonds drew attention to her face. Plumage, thought Kincaid cynically, showing what she had to offer, which was plenty.

Lillian Hennessy was stunningly beautiful, very young, and very, very wealthy. A match for a king. Or a senator who had his eye on the White House. The trouble was the fierce light in her astonishingly pale blue eyes that announced she was a handful not easily tamed. And now her father, who had never been able to bridle her, had appointed her his confidential secretary, which made her even more independent.

"Father," she said, "I just spoke with the chief engineer by telegraphone. He believes they can enter the pioneer tunnel from the far side and cut their way through to the main shaft. The rescue parties are digging. Your wires are sent. It is time you dressed for dinner."

"I'm not eating dinner while men are trapped." "Starving yourself won't help them." She turned to Kincaid. "Hello, Charles," she said coolly. "Mrs. Comden's waiting for us in the parlor. We'll have a cocktail while my father gets dressed."

Hennessy had not yet appeared when they had finished their glasses. Mrs. Comden, a voluptuous, dark-haired woman of forty wearing a fitted green silk dress and diamonds cut in the old European style, said, "I'll get him." She went to Hennessy's office. Ignoring the telegrapher, who, like all telegraphers, was sworn never to reveal messages he sent or received, she laid a soft hand on Hennessy's bony shoulder and said, "Everyone is hungry." Her lips parted in a compelling smile. "Let's take them in to supper. Mr. Van Dorn will report soon enough."

As she spoke, the locomotive whistle blew twice, the double Ahead signal, and the train slid smoothly into motion.

"Where are we going?" she asked, not surprised they were on the move again.

"Sacramento, Seattle, and Spokane."

Chapter 3.

FOUR DAYS AFTER THE TUNNEL EXPLOSION, JOSEPH VAN DORN caught up with the fast-moving, far-roaming Osgood Hennessy in the Great Northern rail yard at Hennessyville. The brand-new city on the outskirts of Spokane, Washington, near the Idaho border, reeked of fresh lumber, creosote, and burning coal. But it was already called the "Minneapolis of the Northwest." Van Dorn knew that Hennessy had built here as part of his plan to double the Southern Pacific's trackage by absorbing the northern cross-continent routes.