Burke looked at Kennedy rather sharply. "Say, do you add telepathy to your other accomplishments?
"No," laughed Craig, "but I'm glad to see that two of us working independently have arrived at the same conclusion. Come, let us saunter over to Track 8 - I guess the train is made up."
The gate was just opened, and the crowd filed through. No one who seemed to satisfy either Burke or Kennedy appeared. The train announcer made his last call. Just then a taxicab pulled up at the street-end of the platform, not far from Track 8. A man jumped out and assisted a heavily veiled lady, paid the driver, picked up the grips, and turned toward us.
We waited expectantly. As he turned I saw a dark-skinned, hook-nosed man, and I exclaimed disgustedly to Burke: "Well, if they are going to Lexington they can't make this train. Those are the last people who have a chance."
Kennedy, however, continued to regard the couple steadily. The man saw that he was being watched and faced us defiantly, "Such impertinence!" Then to his wife, "Come, my dear, we'll just make it."
"I'm afraid I'll have to trouble you to show us what's in that grip," said Kennedy, calmly laying his hand on the man's arm.
"Well, now, did you ever hear of such blasted impudence? Get out of my way, sir, this instant, or I'll have you arrested."
"Come, come, Kennedy," interrupted Burke. "Surely you are getting in wrong here. This can't be the man."
Craig shook his head decidedly. "You can make the arrest or not, Burke, as you choose. If not, I am through. If so - I'll take all the responsibility."
Reluctantly Burke yielded. The man protested; the woman cried; a crowd collected.