what these measures should be. There was orly one certain means of redress and safety,—Lowrie must be got rid of at once. It would not be a difficult matter either. There was to be a meeting of the owners that very week, and Derrick had reports to make, and the mere mention of the violation of the rules would be enough.
"Bah!" he said aloud. "It is not pleasant; but it must be done."
The affair had several aspects, rendering it unpleasant, but Derrick shut his eyes to them resolutely. It seemed, too, that it was not destined that he should have reason to remain undecided. That very day he was confronted with positive proof that the writer of the anonymous warning was an honest man, with an honest motive.
During the morning, necessity called him away from his men to a side gallery, and entering this gallery, he found himself behind a man who stood at one side close to the wall, his Davy lamp open, his pipe applied to the flame. It was Dan Lowrie, and his stealthy glance over his shoulder revealing to him that he was discovered, he turned with an oath.
"Shut that lamp," said Derrick, "and give me your false key."
Lowrie hesitated.
"Give me that key," Derrick repeated, "or I will call the gang in the next gallery and see what they have to say about the matter."
"Dom yore eyes! does tha think as my toime 'll nivver coom?"
But he gave up the key.
"When it comes," he said, "I hope I shall be ready to help myself. Now I've got only one thing to do. I gave you fair warning, and asked you to act the man toward
