"Papa—one word," she pleaded. "Won't you see Mr. Brockway to-night?"
"No; and if I do, it will be the worse for him." And when she had entered the car, he went away quickly and climbed the stairs to the train-despatcher's office on the second floor of the Union Depot.
Meanwhile, Brockway had eaten his supper and posted himself where he could watch what he supposed to be the window of Gertrude's stateroom for the promised signal. He saw the car empty itself, first of Fleetwell and the ladies, and then of the President and his daughter, and while he was waiting for the latter to return, Fleetwell came back, breathless.
"By Jove, Mr. Brockway, this is great luck!" he exclaimed. "You know Denver pretty well, don't you?"
"Fairly well. I knew it better when I lived here."
"Do you happen to know this gentleman?" handing Brockway a card with a name written across it.
"Yes; very well, indeed."
"Then I wish you'd come and help me find him. I've been out in a cab once, and the driver got lost. Will you do it?"
"With pleasure, if you'll get me back here quick. I have an engagement that can't be put off."
They ran out through the building and took a carriage. "Just get me to the house," said the collegian, "and you can come straight away back in the cab," but beyond this he offered no explanations, and Brockway gave the order to the driver.