Josie watched Markle from the corner of her begoggled eyes. He took from his pocket a stamped, addressed envelope and carefully placed therein the trunk checks; then he sealed it and dropped it in the mail box on the platform. Josie noted a special delivery stamp on it.
“See that those two trunks go on this express,” he said to the baggage master, who was busy sorting luggage for the train that was due in ten minutes. “I will take the next train myself but a drummer likes to find his wares waiting for him at his destination instead of having to wait for them. They are fairly heavy trunks—would you like a lift?” He was handing out good cigars as he spoke, one to the baggage master and one to the porter, whom he tipped generously. “Have another,” he said to the baggage master, taking out several more cigars. The men moved with alacrity, pulling out the two heavy trunks first, determined that the generous donor of cigars and tips should be well served.
“Now we’ll be going,” Markle said to his companion.
Josie darted into the one telephone booth the small station boasted and quickly had Chief Lonsdale on the wire. The chief had been unable to attend the wedding because of this business.
“Chief, this is O’Gorman! Markle and his pal are just leaving Somerville. The trunks are filled with loot from the wedding. We have the check numbers. Trunks are checked to go on this outgoing express to New York. I’ll stop them, of course.”
“Certainly, O’Gorman!”
“Are the men ready to seize Markle before he gets back into Dorfield?”
“All ready!”
“Are they using my plan?”
“Sure! Didn’t I tell you this was your case?”