Part 17 (1/2)
”I wanted to ask a few more questions,” said Al, when they were outside.
”It wouldn't have done any good, my boy. The man told us all he knew about the case.”
”I'm not so sure about that,” demurred Al. ”It seems rather queer to me that the driver should say nothing at all about such a peculiar case when he got back to the stable. According to the report of the stage hand he must have been posted about Farley's intention. He was really a party to the crime.”
”Exactly; and that, of course, is just the reason he said nothing when he got back. But we can find out all that later on. Now, in my opinion, they--Farley, Hollingsworth and their victim--did really take a train. The question now is, what train?”
”Perhaps we can learn that at the railway station.”
”Just what I was going to say. We will go to the station now and find out what trains leave at about the time that our friends would have been likely to reach the place.”
”Rockton is not a very big place; there are not many trains a day.”
”No; we shan't have any trouble in getting the information we want.”
They found the station agent at the depot. He was a small, shriveled-up old man, and he glared suspiciously at them when they questioned him.
It took them some minutes to elicit the information that two trains left the station at nine-ten--about the hour that the carriage would have reached the place if it had gone there direct from the theater.
”And where do these two trains go?” asked Mr. Wattles.
”One goes to New York.”
”And the other?”
”The other is the Boston express.”
The manager then described the occupants of the carriage.
”I remember them; what of it?” said the station agent, crustily.
”What do you remember about them?”
”I remember that one of the ladies--the smaller one--seemed to be sick; at any rate, she had to be helped into the waiting room, where they all three stayed till the train arrived.”
”Which of the two trains did they take?” cried Al.
”That I don't know.”
”You don't know?”
”That's what I said. Do you suppose I keep tabs on everyone that comes into this place? Hardly.”
”The New York train and the Boston train were here at the same time?”
”Yes.”
”And they might have taken either?”
”They might.”
”It is of a good deal of importance to us,” said Al, ”to learn which of those two trains they took.”
”I can't help that,” was the reply. ”I'm no clairvoyant or fortune-teller.”
”Isn't there some one about the station who could give us some information?”
”I don't think there is. The ticket-seller that they bought their tickets from might tell you something, but he's off now; there is another man in his place.”
Al and Mr. Wattles stared at each other in perplexity.
Just then a hang-dog looking young fellow of about Al's age came slouching up.
”Here, Smith,” called out the station agent, ”these folks want some information; perhaps you can give it to 'em. Tell this chap what you want, gents, and maybe he can help you out.”
Al explained the situation to the fellow, who said, readily enough: ”Oh, yes; I remember that party.”
”And which of the two trains did they take?”
”The one goin' to Boston.”
”At last,” exclaimed Mr. Wattles, ”we have a little information. Now, then, my boy, what shall we do?”
”I shall follow them,” replied Al, promptly.
”I wish I could go with you, but----”
”I know it would be impossible, Mr. Wattles; and probably I shall get along just as well alone.”
”Maybe; but I'd like to be with you to witness the discomfiture of that arch-villain. Well, come along and get your ticket for Boston.”
They were now walking in the direction of the ticket office.
”No,” said Al, ”I shall get a ticket for New York.”
”Eh?”
The boy repeated the statement.
”But that fellow said they went to Boston; you must have misunderstood him.”
”Oh, no, I didn't.”
”He certainly said Boston.”
”I know he did.”