Ted fancied by now that the man was a German. But, then, he had that Danish newspaper. Maybe he was not. 36
“What do you do at your place—Wayland, I think you said?”
“I go to the Academy there. I belong to the Scouts—it is military and academic.” The boy was quite young and quite simple, Schmidt decided.
“Ah, that military business is bad, very bad. There will never be war anymore.”
Ted wondered if the man really believed it. He could not make up his mind. So they talked. The man grew less and less interested. He had made up his mind that the boy was really going to see his mother. Of course, that would be proven when they found out how much the mother knew about it and if she would meet the boy. Probably all this time had been wasted, but Schmidt had no regrets. After all, eternal vigilance was the watchword.
An hour later the train came into the station.
Ted, who had been quite tired, no longer felt any weariness. Here was Chicago, here was home.
As he stepped away from the train, his mother and sister ran forward. Two men 37 watched him from close by—one motioned to the other. O’Reilly went forward.
“My boy, are you looking for Mr. Strong?”
Helen interrupted: “Looking for Mr. Who? Why, of course he’s not—he’s my brother—I guess you are mistaken. Come, Ted, we are going home first.”