“What could be his object?” inquired Phœbe, much perplexed.
“To be able to prove an alibi, I imagine.”
The twins walked on in silence for a time and were just passing the railway station when Phil had an idea.
“Come in with me,” he whispered, and followed by Phœbe he walked calmly up to the agent’s window. The man was not busy, as no trains were due at this time.
“Hello, Wakefield,” called Phil, genially.
“Hello, Phil. Good evening, Miss Daring,” responded the agent, recognizing them.
“I came in to pay for Eric’s ticket to St. Louis. He happened to be short of currency, but said you’d let him have the ticket, and I could drop in and settle for it to-night.”
Wakefield seemed surprised.
“Mr. Spaythe didn’t buy a through ticket,” he explained. “He only took one to Canton. Said he’d buy his ticket and sleeper from there on. I remember thinking that was a queer way to do. If he was short of money, Eric knew I’d help him out.”
Phœbe trembled as she pressed Phil’s arm.