“We’ve got to do it, Roger!” cried Dave. “I am sure we are on the right track. Those girls came here, and, so far as we can learn, nobody saw them get on the train again. If they didn’t get on the train, where did they go?”
“I’d give a good deal to have that question answered,” returned the senator’s son. He heaved a sigh. “Oh, we’ve got to do something!”
They continued their inquiries, and presently found themselves talking to a lame boy in charge of a small fruit-stand, where they made a purchase.
“Yes, I was here the day the train was held up down at the Crossing, and some of the folks walked up to the station,” said the lame boy. “There were a couple of drummers with their cases, and a man and his wife and two or three children, and then there were a couple of other men,—and three or four young ladies. Some of ’em went right over to the station, and the rest of ’em went uptown.”
“Did you notice two young ladies in particular?” questioned Dave; and then he told how Laura and Jessie had been dressed, and of the beaded handbags they carried, and added that they also had a magazine or two.
“Oh, yes, I remember them!” cried the young fruit-stand keeper. “They stopped here and got some grapes and a couple of peaches.”
“And did they get on the train again when it came along?”
“I didn’t see ’em. They walked uptown. One of them asked me where the Bliss House was.”
“The Bliss House?” queried Roger.
“Yes, sir. That’s our hotel,” explained the boy.