Wasn’t I mad?
You’d just better believe I was.
When I went back to Mr. Brady, though, he only laughed at me.
“What do you ’spose them fellows do for a living?” he says. “They are up to their business as well as you or me.”
“I ’spose I may as well give it up,” I says.
“Not at all,” says he. “Wouldn’t do nothing of the sort. I don’t believe they’re going to get him just because they happen to be laying for him, and if you do you’re a fool.”
“Why, don’t you think he’s off for Montreal?” I says.
“Yes,” says he, “of course, but not that way. The taking of that berth in his own name is a dead give away. He’ll never go over the Central road.”
“What way, then?” I says.
“How do I know?” says he, “but I’ve got an idea.”