"Now, to see my friend, Tim Story," said the brakeman, "who, if I am not mistaken, will be able to give us as much information in five minutes as the police will gain in twenty-four hours."
Tim Story's home proved to be a floor in a West-Side tenement. The cabman had just returned home, and did not seem to be in a very communicative mood. But in a few minutes Al's new friend had obtained information from him that gave the boy a new hope.
"We have found her!" he exclaimed. "How can I thank you?"
"Don't thank me yet," was the reply. "Remember the old saying, 'There's many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip.' You have a dangerous job ahead of you, my boy."
CHAPTER XXX.
HARD LUCK.
Among the passengers that arrived at the Grand Central Depot by a train which reached the city about three hours before Al Allston's arrival, were a trio who attracted some attention from their fellow passengers; attention that was evidently unwelcome and annoying to at least two of the three.
There were two women and a man. One of the women, slight and heavily veiled, was supported, almost carried, by her companions. She seemed to be very ill.
As she was lifted from the car, one of the passengers, an elderly gentleman, overheard her say:
"Where am I? Where are you taking me?"