There was nothing to be done. I must possess my soul in patience in the belief that the Unknown knew what she was about and that I should get my orders in due time—probably after nightfall, when darkness would cover any necessary movement.
But if I could shift the worry and responsibility of the present situation on the Unknown, there was another trouble that loomed larger and more perplexing before my mind with each passing hour. If the mission of to-day were prolonged into the morrow, what was to become of the Omega deal, and where would Doddridge Knapp's plans of fortune be found? I smiled to think that I should concern myself with this question when I knew that Doddridge Knapp's men were waiting and watching for my first movement with orders that probably did not stop at murder itself. Yet my trouble of mind increased with the passing time as I vainly endeavored to devise some plan to meet the difficulty that had been made for me.
But as I saw no way to straighten out this tangle, I turned my attention to the boy in the hope of getting from him some information that might throw light on the situation.
“He's as shy as a young quail,” said Wainwright, when my advances were received in stubborn silence.
“You seem to be getting along pretty well with him,” I suggested.
“Yes, sir; he'll talk a bit with me, but he's as close-mouthed a chap as you'll find in the state, sir, unless it's one of them deef and dummies.”
I made another unsuccessful attempt to cultivate the acquaintance of my charge.
“You've got a day's job before you if you get him to open his head,” said Wainwright, amused at the failure of my efforts as an infant-charmer.
“What has he been talking about?” I inquired, somewhat disgusted.
“The train,” chuckled Wainwright. “Blamed if I think he's seen anything else since he started.”