The Clamp

"It looks very suspicious, but that's all. You can't tell how long the
mark would take to get dull. Besides, we have moved the guard two or
three times in the last few days."

"That's true," said Dick. "Still, I wedged the thing up shortly before
the accident. It has stood a number of shocks; in fact, it can't be
loosened by pressure on the back. When do you think the last blow was
struck?"

"After yours," Jake answered meaningly.

"Then the probability is that somebody wanted the truck to fall into the
hole and smash the block."

"Yes," said Jake, who paused and looked hard at Dick. "But I'm not sure
that was all he wanted. You were standing right under the block, and if I
hadn't been a little to one side, where the lights didn't dazzle me, the
smashing of a lot of concrete wouldn't have been the worst damage."

Dick said nothing, but his face set hard as he braced himself against the
unnerving feeling that had troubled him on the previous night. The great
block had not fallen by accident; it looked as if somebody had meant to
take his life. The cunning of the attempt daunted him. The blow had been
struck in a manner that left him a very slight chance of escape; and his
subtle antagonist might strike again.

"What are you going to do about it?" Jake resumed.

"Nothing," said Dick.

Jake looked at him in surprise. "Don't you see what you're up against?"