“Into the car!” she whispered. “He deserves no consideration whatever, and our first duty is to Aggie.”
Before I could protest, I was in the car and Tish was starting the engine; but precious time had been lost, and although we searched madly, there was no trace of the wagon.
When at last in despair we drove up to the local police station it was as a last resort. But like everything else that night, it too failed us. The squad room was empty, and someone was telephoning from the inner room to Edgewater, the next town.
“Say,” he was saying, “has the sheriff and his crowd started yet?... Have, eh? Well, we need ’em. All the boys are out, but they haven’t got ’em yet, so far’s I know.... Yes, they’ve done plenty. Attacked Doctor Parkinson first. Then busted down the pier at the fish house and stole a boat there, and just as Murphy corraled them near the pen, they grabbed his motorcycle and escaped. They hit a car with it and about killed a man, and a few minutes ago old Jenkins, out the Pike, telephoned they’d lifted a horse and wagon and beat it. And now they’ve looted the Cummings house and stolen Parkinson’s car for a get-away.... Crazy? Sure they’re crazy! Called the old boy at the fish cannery dearie! Can you beat it?”
We had just time to withdraw to the street before he came through the doorway, and getting into the car we drove rapidly away. Never have I seen Tish more irritated; the unfairness of the statements galled her, and still more her inability to refute them. She said but little, merely hoping that whoever had robbed the Cummings house had made a complete job of it, and that we would go next to the railway station.
“It is possible,” she said, “that the men in that restaurant are implicated in this burglary, and certainly their actions indicate flight. In that case the wagon—and Aggie—may be at the depot.”
This thought cheered us both. But alas, the waiting room was empty and no wagon stood near the tracks. Only young George Welliver was behind the ticket window, and to him Tish related a portion of the situation.
“Not only is Miss Pilkington in the wagon,” she said, “but these men are probably concerned in the Cummings robbery. I merely said to them ‘All is discovered,’ when they rushed out of the place.”
Suddenly George Welliver threw back his head and laughed.
“Well!” he said. “And me believing you all the time! So you’re one of that bunch, are you? All that rigmarole kind of mixed me up. Here’s your little clew, and you’re the first to get one.”