"Then the best thing to do is to ring the railroad folks up and have the bearer of the order detained, if the slip is presented," went on the police officer, and stepping to the telephone he rang up central and had the necessary connection made.
"Is this the ticket office of the New York and New England railroad depot?" he questioned.
"Yes," came the reply over the wire.
"A navy-yard order for a ticket from here to Norfolk, or Fortress Monroe, has been stolen. It is made out in the name of Walter Russell. If it is presented, hold the party having it and communicate with police headquarters."
"Is the name Walter Russell?" was the excited query, and Walter's heart began to sink as he seemed to feel what was coming.
"Yes."
"That order has already been filled. It was presented about ten o'clock last night."
"I've missed it!" groaned the youth, and dropped into a chair. "What will the navy-yard people say to this when they hear of it?"
"I don't see how they can blame you," returned the sergeant, kindly, "seeing as you were knocked senseless by the thief. Deck Mumpers has got the best of it so far."
He called through the telephone for a description of the party having the order, and soon learned it must have been Mumpers beyond a doubt.