“No.” Joe flushed faintly. “What I mean is that it would be too bad to have him arrested, because he might never do a thing like that again.”
“Well, please yourself. I don’t think he deserves much consideration, though.” He chuckled. “It would be a good plan to get him back here and let that landlady you told about get at him! I’ll bet that would be worse than a year in jail! If you’re through we’ll hike across and see if that answer has come.”
There was some discussion as to who was to pay for Joe’s repast, but the agent finally silenced protest by agreeing to accept a handful of cigars if Joe’s mission succeeded. It was twenty minutes past seven by the waiting-room clock when they got back to the station and the message was awaiting them.
“Passenger held ticket to Upper Newton, but stayed on and bought to Fremont. Made inquiry about east-bound trains tonight. If you want him pinched say the word. Harris.”
“Fremont, eh?” Mr. Chase seized the time-table and studied it a moment. “He can’t get an east-bound until ten-fifty-five. There’s a local to Norwalk, though, at nine-forty-seven. He might take that. Or he may have asked about the east-bound trains just to throw us off the track!” He looked thoughtfully at Joe a moment. Then, decisively: “That’s his game all right! He means to take the eight o’clock express to Toledo! If he does—Hold on, though! Jim, ask how late Fourteen was at Fostoria. That express doesn’t wait but five minutes for connections and Fourteen was twelve minutes late at Mittenton. She might make that up, but she makes all stops and I don’t believe she will. If he misses the eight o’clock he can’t get west until ten-four.”
“Fourteen was nineteen minutes late at Fostoria,” announced the assistant. “Left there at twenty-two.”
“Good!” exclaimed Mr. Chase. “That’ll bring her to Fremont about eight-seventeen if she doesn’t lose any more time, and she’s likely to keep on losing now. If you take the thirty-six”—he glanced swiftly at the clock—“you’re due in Fremont at nine-forty-eight. That’ll give you sixteen minutes there before the west-bound pulls out. If he means to take that he will be waiting around the station and you’ll catch him.” He swung around toward the assistant. “Jim, send this to Harris at Fremont: ‘Did passenger get off at Fremont? If so, do you know his destination? Chase.’ If Harris wires back that he got off this side or has gone on to Sandusky I’ll telegraph you at Fostoria. If you don’t get any message it’ll mean that your party got off at Fremont and Harris doesn’t know where he’s headed for. You’d better loosen up now and get your ticket. Your train will be here in four minutes. Forty-nine’s on time, isn’t she, Jim?”
“O. T. at Fountain,” was the reply. “There she whistles now.”
Five minutes later, having set Aunt Sarah’s mind at rest by telephone, Joe was seated in a day-coach and Number 49 was leaving the Amesville lights behind her on her northward journey.