Now, his opportunity lay far away. Unmixed with affairs in New York, he could pursue his intended task. He grinned as he thought of Major. His companion would never know of Ferret's unscheduled activity in New York.
Ferret bore the air of a man who had squared accounts. He picked up the newspaper again and rested his finger on the name of Daniel Antrim. A fiendish sneer came over his face. Then, realizing that persons might be watching him, the stoop-shouldered man dropped the journal and walked back toward the dining car.
The longer Ferret considered the subject, the more pleased he became with his own immunity. At times he had qualms, fearing that Major might read the account of the gun battle and perceive some connection between it and Ferret. But he soon dismissed these thoughts as ridiculous. When the Limited reached Chicago, Ferret obtained a local newspaper and perused a fuller account of the New York affair. The Chicago journals were always ready to play up shooting matches that took place in Manhattan.
The chief concern of the New York police, he read, appeared to be directed toward the future. The affair at Antrim's might mean the beginning of extended feuds.
Taking another train in Chicago, Ferret proceeded westward. He was coming to the end of his journey, far away from New York. It was late the following afternoon when the train approached the stop of Middletown Junction. That was Ferret's destination.
He alighted at the platform of an old station. The short branch line running to Middletown was no longer in operation. A bus had replaced it.
Ferret took the bus, and half an hour later the vehicle stopped on the main street of a prosperous Middle Western town. Ferret stepped off and consulted a paper which he drew from his pocket. He asked no questions here. Suitcase in hand, he sauntered along the main street. He walked by a block of modern construction, made up of new buildings, all connected into one, to form the pride of Middletown.
Ferret noticed a marble-fronted bank in the middle of the block. A larger bank occupied the farthest corner. Here, Ferret turned right and crossed the town square.
He had never been in Middletown before, yet he knew his way perfectly. On the opposite side of the square, he entered the beginning of a residential district, and within a few blocks he turned up the walk to the front door of a good-sized house. Here he rang the bell, and a maid quickly appeared in answer. Ferret handed her a card that bore the name of Joel Hawkins. He inquired if Mr. Traver was at home. The maid responded in the affirmative, and conducted Ferret into a small parlor. She returned later, and led him to the door of a room near the back of the first floor.
Ferret entered and grinned. A man was seated at a desk, going over a stack of mail. He was a man past middle age, of strong physique and stern face. His thick hair was gray, and he carried himself like a prosperous man who held a high position in his community. Ferret closed the door.