One thing was perfectly clear in my mind. The two men had gone to Brooklyn to see Mrs. Agatha Mitts. No doubt they thought that now I had the papers Sammy Simpson had stolen in my possession I would follow up the train of evidence by calling on the woman—a thing I most likely would have done. They intended to head me off, and by this means break down my case against them at its last stage.
Yet though I was disappointed I was not disheartened. I was fighting for honor and intended to keep on until not a single thing remained to do. My evidence against Woodward and Holtzmann was gradually accumulating, and sooner or later it must bring them to the bar of justice.
"Well, they're gone," I exclaimed, as I joined the others. "That is, if they were on that train."
"We'll ask the gateman and make sure," said the sergeant.
This was done, and we soon learned that beyond a doubt Mr. Woodward and Chris Holtzmann had been among the departed passengers.
"My work in Chicago is at an end," remarked the sergeant, as we stood in the waiting-room discussing the situation.
"And so is mine," I replied. "I've got the papers, and now the two men are gone, there is no use of my remaining."
"What do you intend to do?" asked Mr. Harrison.
"Follow them to Brooklyn."
"To Brooklyn? It's a good distance."