"The carriage was an ordinary livery coach. There were two horses, both of them gray. It was a livery turn-out—there can't be any doubt about that—and not a first-class one, either."
"You don't know what stable it came from?"
"No, sir; but it won't be a very hard job to find that out, for there are only three stables in town. Two of them are quite swell, but the other isn't, and I guess it was from that one that the coach came."
"Well," said Mr. Wattles, springing to his feet, "we can get to work now. Come, my boy, this man shall take us to the stable at once, and we will see what they have to tell us there."
"I don't want to drag you out, Mr. Wattles," said Al. "I can manage this business alone."
"You can, eh?" said the manager, almost indignantly. "Well, maybe you could, but you won't get the chance. I am going to be right in it with you. Why, do you suppose I could sleep a wink to-night with this thing on my mind? I tell you, my boy, I thought more of that girl than you imagine, and if anything should happen to her——"
Mr. Wattles choked and turned away his head. Al was surprised at this exhibition of emotion; he had not given his employer credit for the possession of so much feeling.
He extended his hand.
"Mr. Wattles," he said, "you are a good friend of mine and hers. Have it your own way, then. Come!"
The manager pressed the boy's hand.