Fred, though only nominally a prisoner, felt very uncomfortable. He was saved from the disgrace of being handcuffed, and was consoled by knowing that not even the detective believed him guilty of any connection with the burglary. Still he was not his own master, to come and go as he pleased, and it was not certain that he would be able to go back to New York the next day as he had planned. Circumstances thus far had worked against him, but there was to be a turn in the tide. As they walked through the streets on the way to the station house, where Palmer was to be locked up for safekeeping, they met a man whose dress showed him to be an employee of the Erie road.
"Mr. Ferguson," said Fred eagerly, "that is the conductor of one of my trains. He will tell you that I am the train-boy."
The conductor had just discovered and recognized Fred.
"You are staying over, like me," he said.
"Yes, I have permission."
"And so have I. I have a brother living here, and got two days off. Where are you stopping?"
"At the Lynch House. Will you tell this gentleman that I am an Erie train boy?"
"Certainly; but why is that necessary?" asked the conductor in surprise.
"I will tell you later. Mr. Ferguson, have you any questions to ask?"
"Was this boy on your train yesterday?"