The cabby grinned, tossed off his drink, and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.
“Take ’em? Well, at first they wanted the police station—then they wanted the railroad station. So I took ’em there!”
“To the railroad station?”
“Just that. I’m thinkin’ it was funny—but it ain’t my place to ask questions. Just so long as I gets my fare, what’s the odds!” He paused and bestowed a longing glance upon the bottle in front of him.
“Fill it up again,” Tod said quickly.
“Thanks, I’ll just do that.” The glass was filled and pressed to his lips.
“Did you notice what train my friends took?” Tod inquired.
“They didn’t both take the same train,” was the unexpected answer. “I—I was hangin’ around waitin’ for a fare, so I watched.” The cabby chuckled to himself. “No, sir, they didn’t! One of ’em takes the four o’clock for Fall River and the other gets on the express for Boston.”
“Good Lord!” burst from Tod. Then, after an effort to control his voice, he asked: “Which one took the express for Boston?”
The cabby’s head was rolling unsteadily from side to side. “Which—which one? Now jus’ let me see.” He weighed the question for a moment.