“Say, what are you boys up to?” he asked. “No detectives didn’t ask me anything. What’s your game?”
“This is the only Spotville Point there is in the state, isn’t it?” pressed Don.
“Sure it is. But what——”
“Do you mean to say that detectives haven’t been here to see you about an elderly stout man who got off here on the third of October?” asked Jim.
“Nobody’s been to see me. As soon as I was took sick I went away to Spartenburgh to get well. They might have been to see Tommy.”
“Look here,” said Don. “We’re cadets from Woodcrest School. On the third of October our colonel started for the school and for some reason he got off here at Spotville Point. He was never seen again. Now, you say you were here on the third, and detectives say they have checked up thoroughly. How is it that they haven’t been to see you?”
“I’ll tell you why they ain’t!” cried the old man, his eyes suddenly lighting up. “Me and Tommy has had an argument. He claims he was on here since October second, and I know doggone well he wasn’t! He’s tryin’ to get in some extra pay, if you ask me. I know I was here on October third. Maybe they have been talking to Tommy.”
“They must have been,” nodded Don quickly. “But do you remember the man I’m talking about? Surely you must remember everyone who gets off here, and as that was your last day before you got sick, I should think you’d surely remember.”
“I do remember him!” cried the agent. “A little fat man, yes sir! I remember him as plain as day! I—Oh, murder!”
He sat down suddenly and stared at the boys in dismay. They looked blankly back at him.