“To London.”
“Then I’ll go, too. When is the next train?”
“At twelve o’clock, sir.”
Professor Puffer returned to the hotel at once, packed his trunk, and enrolled himself as a passenger on the noon train.
“If that fellow escapes me,” he said with an ugly look, “he’ll have to be pretty smart. I won’t have it said that a boy of his age has got the better of me.” Mr. Sturgis bought first class tickets, and Bernard found himself in a handsomely upholstered compartment only large enough to hold eight passengers.
The doors were locked after they started, which struck Bernard as peculiar.
“I like our American cars better,” he said.
“So do I, but they are not so exclusive. The English like to be exclusive.”
It was an express train, and deposited them in London in a few hours.
“Now, Bernard,” said Mr. Sturgis, “I think it will be well for us to go to different hotels. I shall go to the Charing Cross, but this is a prominent hotel, and should you go there you could easily be traced.”