It was scarcely more than a minute later when the whistle blew and they were off, and Mr. MacAlister took out his pipe and prepared himself to receive official confidences. But the miles went by, and though he plied his questions incessantly and skilfully, no confidences were forthcoming. The superintendent, in fact, had something else to think about. All at once he asked abruptly:
"Robbie, did ye see yon man next door sitting with his face in his hands?"
"Aye," said Mr. MacAlister, "I noticed the man."
"Did ye ken who he was?"
"No," said Mr. MacAlister, "I did not."
"Had ye seen him on the platform?"
"No," said Mr. MacAlister, "I had not."
"I didna see him myself," said the superintendent musingly. "It seems funny-like a man dressed like yon and with his face wrapped up too—and a man forbye that's a stranger to us both, coming along the platform and getting into that carriage, and me not noticing him. I'm not used not to notice people, Robbie."
"It's your business, George," said Mr. MacAlister, and then as he gazed at his cousin's thoughtful face, his own grew suddenly animated.
"You're not thinking he's to dae wi' the murder, are you!" he cried.