* * *
A train pulled into the station across the street. It was the afternoon local from Harrisburg. Bruce Duncan studied the few passengers who alighted. One was a heavy-set man with a ruddy complexion who stood on the station platform and surveyed the scene curiously.
Bruce watched the stranger. The man walked over to the bus and talked for a minute with the driver.
Then he crossed the street and disappeared from Bruce's view.
Harry Vincent was reading a newspaper. Bruce Duncan slipped quietly from his chair and left the restaurant. He moved across the street and approached the bus driver.
"Hello," said the driver. "Going to ride out with me?"
"No; we have our car here in town. I just came over to say 'Hello.'"
"Reckon I'll have another passenger for Ridge Road to-night. It seems like I let somebody off there once a week."
"You mean on your last trip?"
"Yep. Some fellow was just talking to me a couple of minutes ago. Wanted to know what time the last bus went. Said he was going out to Ridge Road. I told him I stopped there."