“Yes, sir, sort of. And then, when he swung around his bag struck me on the knees and I went back against the wall.”
“To be continued in our next,” murmured the other. He examined his watch. “We’ll be in Toledo in about ten minutes, I think. So perhaps you’d better go and see your friend. Afterwards come back here and tell me what the result is. It would be too commonplace to bring the police into this. So we’ll just put our heads together and find an artistic dénoûement.”
Joe hurried through the three Pullman cars and through an equal number of day-coaches without finding Mr. Chester Young. But in the next, the smoking car, the sight of that gentleman rewarded him as he closed the door. Young was seated half-way along the car, smoking a cigarette and figuring on the back of an envelope. Beside him, on the other half of the seat, rested the suit-case.
Joe walked quietly down the aisle. Young didn’t see him until he had laid hand on the bag. Then, with an alarmed grasp at the suit-case, Young raised his eyes. His jaw dropped ludicrously and the cigarette in his mouth rolled to the floor, and while Joe set the suit-case aside and seated himself Young continued to regard him in stupefied amazement.
CHAPTER XXII
THE AMATEUR DETECTIVE
“Well,” said Joe finally, “thought better of it, Young?”
Young found his voice then and for at least two minutes gave vent to his feelings, which, judging from the expressions he made use of, were far from pleasant. When, at last, breath or fresh invectives failed him, Joe said: “Young, you might as well be sensible about this. We’ll be in Toledo in a few minutes and there’ll be an officer waiting for us. What’s the good of going to jail for seventy-five dollars? Why don’t you give me back what you stole and have an end of it?”
Young, having regained his breath, indulged in a few more well-chosen remarks derogatory to Joe’s character. After which he declared that he knew nothing about the money, never saw it, didn’t have it, and wouldn’t give it up if he had!