“Just don’t be in a hurry!” Alex suggested, as Case laid the newspaper down on the ground. “There is a marked item in it.”
“Oh, just a few pencil marks,” Case admitted. “Nothing to them.”
“It tells about the train robbers hiding in the mountains,” Alex explained, reading over the headlines. “And here’s another item under it. Listen to this, will you?”
“‘Chicago, April 1,’” the boy read aloud. “‘An unprovoked murder was committed on Wells street late last night. Charles Stiven, employed as barkeeper at a South Side saloon, was attacked by Richard Miller, of the importing firm of Durand Miller, and shot to death. The injured man did not die on the street where the shooting took place, but later expired at St. Joseph’s hospital, after making a statement which is likely to hang Richard Miller if he is caught. Miller escaped after the shooting and had not been captured at the hour of going to press. No reason is given for the brutal attack.’”
“Rather old news, that,” Case remarked. “Why, we were in Chicago when that affair took place. Anything more about it?”
“Just a short description of Miller,” was the reply. “It says he is unusually tall, with—”
The boy stopped and looked up at Case with a question mark in each excited eye. Then he arose and held the paper out so Case could read the paragraph where his finger was placed. The boy did so wonderingly.
“Unusually tall, with long arms,’” the boy read, following Alex’s slowly moving finger. “Now, what do you think of that, young fellow?”
“That’s the man that was on the train,” Alex declared. “That’s the man Gran talked with in the cedars! That’s the man who took Gran off in our rowboat! No wonder the lad doesn’t want to say a word about his adventures on the mountains. What can it all mean?”
“I’m going right back and show this to him!” Case cried. “I’m going to know all about this. Gran’s got to come through on this, as the police officers say. Don’t you think that’s what we ought to do?” he asked as the other looked grave and doubtful.