“Yes,” agreed Mr. Schofield, “I know. I’ve talked with her. She’s like all the rest of these big-hearted Irish women,—ready to work herself to death for the people she loves. Though,” he added, “that’s a characteristic of nearly all women.”
CHAPTER XV.
A SHOT FROM BEHIND
Mr. Schofield filed his affidavit before the probate judge without delay, but, when the officer of the court went to look for Reddy, he was nowhere to be found. From his wife it was learned that he had not been home for two days, nor was he to be discovered in any of his accustomed haunts around the yards or in the shops, and the quest for him was finally given up in despair. Allan concluded that Reddy had recognized him that morning, as he came out from under the engine which he had tampered with, and knew that he was found out at last; but, whether this was the case, or whether he had got wind of the proceedings against him in some other way, certain it is that Reddy disappeared from Wadsworth, and nothing more was seen of him there for many days.
Word was quietly passed around among the trainmen to be on the watch for him, as he was probably the one who had recently caused the road so much annoyance; and this came to be pretty well proved in time, for, with Reddy’s disappearance, the annoyances ceased, in so far, at least, as they originated in the yards at Wadsworth. Out on the line, indeed, they still continued,—switches were spiked, fish-plates were loosened,—and then, of a sudden, even these ceased, and everything ran as smoothly as in the old days. But this very quiet alarmed the chief of detectives more than anything else had done, for he believed it was the calm preceding a storm, and he redoubled his precautions. Some of the officers were rather inclined to laugh at his fears, but not the superintendent.
“You are right, Preston,” he said to the chief. “There’s something in the wind. We’ll look sharp till after the pay-car gets here, anyway. After that, if nothing happens, we can let up a bit.”
“When will the pay-car get here?” questioned Preston.
“I don’t know yet; probably the night of the twenty-fourth.”
“You’d better order a double guard with it, sir,” suggested the detective.
“I will,” assented the superintendent. “More than that, Mr. Schofield and I will accompany it. If there’s any excitement, we want to be there to see it.”
The detective nodded and went away, while the superintendent turned back to his desk. It had occurred to him some days before that an attempt to hold up the pay-car might be the culminating point of the series of outrages under which the road was suffering, and the more he had thought of it the more likely it appeared. The pay-car would be a rich prize, and any gang of men who could get away with its contents would be placed beyond the need of working, begging, or stealing for a long time to come. The pay-car, which always started from general headquarters at Cincinnati, went over the road, from one end to the other, every month, carrying with it the money with which the employés of the road were paid. To Wadsworth alone it brought monthly nearly two hundred thousand dollars, for Wadsworth was division headquarters. Nearly all the trainmen employed on the division lived there, and besides, there were the hundreds of men who laboured in the division shops. Yes, the pay-car would be a rich prize, and, as the money it carried was all in small denominations, it would be impossible to trace it, once the robbers got safely away with it.