But Bessie didn’t answer her. Instead she had raced toward a big railroad map that hung on the wall of the station, and was looking for Canton on it.
“I thought so!” she gasped. Then she ran over to the ticket window, and spoke to the agent.
“If I send a telegram right now, can it be delivered to Miss Mercer, on that train that just went out, before she gets to Canton?” she asked.
The agent looked at her time-table.
“Oh, yes,” she said, cheerfully. “That’s easy. I’ll send it right out for you, and it will reach her at Whitemarsh which is only twenty-five miles away.”
“Good!” said Bessie, and wrote out a long telegram. In a minute she returned to Jake and Dolly, and the sound of the ticking telegraph instrument filled the station with its chatter.
“He wanted to run away, Bessie,” said Dolly. “But I told him it wasn’t polite to do that when a young lady wanted to talk to him, so he stayed. That was nice of him, wasn’t it?”
“Very,” said Bessie, her tone as sarcastic as Dolly’s own. “Now, look here, Jake, what have you done that makes you so afraid of Mr. Holmes and these other wicked men?”
Jake’s jaw fell again, but he was speechless. He just stared at her.
“There’s no use standing there like a dying calf, Jake Hoover!” said Bessie, angrily. “I know perfectly well you’ve been up to some dreadful mischief, and these men have told you that if you don’t do just as they tell you they’ll see that you’re punished. Isn’t that true?”