The election doesn't interest me," said Mr.
Marshall, turning away.
"Very well, I'll call Wednesday, sir, at the jail." Marshall gave him a quick look.
"Who are you, sir ?" he asked.
"John Burke, a detective." The manager hesitated a moment.
"Come in, Mr.Burke," he said.
"I represent the Forbes interests," said the detective, seating himself in the private office, "and it has come to our notice that Dr.Squiers has permitted sixty-six fraudulent registrations to be entered on the books.

These sixty-six men are supposed to have been imported by you and are now working at this mill." "This is all nonsense!" protested the manager, growing pale.
"Forty men are sleeping in a near-by barn, and twenty-six in the stock-room of the mill," added Mr.Burke.
"That isn't criminal, sir." "No, indeed.

The criminal act is their false registration, so far," said the detective, blandly.
"But mark you, sir; if an attempt is made to vote those men tomorrow, I shall arrest you, as well as Mr.Hopkins and Dr.Squiers." "This is preposterous, sir!" blustered the manager.

"There will be no attempt made to vote them." "I am quite sure of it," was the reply.

"You may thank Mr.Forbes for warning you in time.