"I'm on a fishing-trip," explained the Duke, blandly. And the conductor, who knew that the siding had no fishing water within ten miles of it, went away chuckling in order to applaud the joke of a man of power.
A few hours later the two were let off at the siding and the train hurried on.
There was a farm-house near the railroad. They ate dinner with the farmer and his wife, who seemed to realize that they were entertaining some one out of the ordinary, and were much flustered thereby. Especially did the farmer struggle with his vague memory of personalities, asking many round-about questions and "supposing" many possibilities that the Duke placidly neglected to confirm.
The only definite information the farmer received was that the big elderly man wanted himself and his companion conveyed to Burnside Village by wagon, starting in the late afternoon.
"I'll take you," said the man; "but what sticks me is that you didn't stay right on board that train. It stops at Burnside regular, and it don't stop here at all."
"But it stopped to-day," remarked the Duke.
"I know it did, and that's what sticks me again."
The old man rose from the table and smiled down on him.
"Here's a good cigar, brother. I've often worked out many a puzzle while having a bang-up smoke."
He invited Harlan by a nod of the head, and they went out and strolled in the maple grove behind the house.