"Did you tell him it wouldn't go before noon?"
"No; he didn't ask," returned the clerk, coolly. He was evidently not going to let any business slip if he could help it.
"Is there any possible way I can get to Chicago before noon?" I went on.
The clerk shook his head. "I don't think there is," he replied.
"What is the nearest station on the other side of the bridge?"
"Foley."
"And how far is that from Chicago?"
"Twelve miles."
"Thank you."
I walked away from the counter filled with a sudden resolve. I must reach Chicago before the telegram or Mr. Allen Price. If I did not, my trip to the city of the lakes would be a failure.