The whole mystery was now clear. The “ghost” was a freight thief, who had himself shipped, in a box, to some point which would necessitate his being transferred and held over night at the freight junction. He played “ghost” either to frighten the operator away, or to lead to the belief that any noises overheard were caused by “spirits,” then overhauled the valuable freight in the shed, took what he wanted with him into his own box (which supposedly he could open and close from the inside), and was shipped away with it the following morning. The rifled packages, carefully re-sealed, also went on to their several destinations, and the blame of the theft was laid elsewhere.
Jack was not long in deciding upon his next move. Coming down from the boarding-house before the sheds had been closed that afternoon, he noted where the box containing the unsuspected human freight had been placed, and selecting a window at the far end of the shed, seized a favorable moment to quietly loosen its catch.
It was near midnight, and Jack was once more the sole guardian of the station when he took the next step. And despite a certain nervousness, now that the exciting moment was at hand, he found considerable amusement in carrying it out.
It was nothing less than making up a dummy imitation of himself asleep on a cot in a corner of the telegraph room—as a precaution against the “ghost” peering within to learn the effect of his “haunting.”
In making the dummy Jack used a brown fur cap for the head, a glimpse of which under an old hat looked remarkably like his own brown head. A collection of old overalls and record books carefully arranged formed the body, and his own shoes the feet.
When over the whole he threw his overcoat, the deception was complete. Chuckling at the subterfuge, Jack lost no time in slipping forth for the next step in his program.
Tiptoeing down the platform to the window whose latch he had loosened, he softly raised it, listened, and climbing through, dropped noiselessly to the floor. Feeling his way in the darkness amid the bales and boxes, he reached a nook behind a piano-case he had previously noted, and settling down, prepared to await the appearance of the “spectre.”
The wait was not long. Scarcely had he made himself comfortable when from the direction of the big packing-case came the muffled sound of a screw-driver. Soon there followed a noise as of a board being softly shoved aside, then a step on the floor. Simultaneously there was the crackle of a match, and peering forth Jack momentarily made out a thin, clean-shaven face bending over a dark-lantern. But quickly he drew back with a start of fright as the man turned and came directly toward him.
A few feet away, however, the intruder halted, and again peering cautiously forth Jack discovered the lantern, closely muffled, on the floor, and beside it the dim figure of the man working with his hands at a plank. As Jack watched, wondering, the plank came up. Laying it aside carefully, the stranger stepped down into the opening, recovered the lantern, and disappeared.
“Now what under the sun is he up to?” exclaimed Jack to himself.