"No bridges until we come to them. Keep your veil down. He might be watching from his car-window when we arrive. He must never see you."
Mathison was extremely pleased with the result of his exploit. To have thought out all these moves in mid-Pacific, and to find them moving without a hitch! He closed the door of his compartment and drew the window-curtains. He pulled down the covering of Malachi's cage.
"Malachi, you're likely to think cross-eyed all the rest of your days. But to-morrow night at this time you'll have peace and quiet."
Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw a bit of paper come jerkily under the door. He pounced upon it.
All compartments 2 on train bought out in advance; unknown persons. Want anything done about it? Answer window.
After a minute's wait Mathison raised the curtain a little and gave a negative sign with his hand. Then he dropped upon the lounge. So that's how it had happened! Luck and accident in San Francisco because travel East had been light, but a matter of foresight and calculation in Omaha and Chicago. Confident that he would always occupy No. 1, that he would travel a given route as rapidly as transportation facilities permitted, they had bought out No. 2 compartments on both trains.
There would be real action from now on. They would begin to realize that they hadn't any time to lose. Very well; they would find him ready. He smiled. The Secret Service agents were beginning to fidget, the best possible proof that his plans were moving forward like clockwork. To-morrow night the climax! Only a few more strands and the web would be complete.
"We idiotic Yankees!"
He went to bed early. He was confident that there would be no more gas. He was dead for the need of a few hours of recuperative sleep. The jolting ride across town had helped to dissipate most of the bodily numbness; but now his brain was crying out for oblivion. He fell asleep almost instantly.