“Now,” continued the chief, “it may be that Charley was drugged on the night of the murder and robbery. See what you can learn about that.”
“You think that probable?”
“It is at least possible,” was the reply.
“Then that shows a desire on the part of some one in the house to rob him. As I said before, I think the burglars were on a worked-out claim.”
Nick chuckled, but said nothing.
Chick had differed with his chief in so many cases which had been won that he was not inclined to force his opinions to the front, so he remained silent.
The railroad station at which the detectives now stood was a small affair, and was usually closed in the nighttime. No through trains stopped there, but at four o’clock in the morning a local passed into the city, and an agent was always there at that time.
A short distance from the station was a little suburban store where fruit and light lunches were sold. Many suburbanites took and left the trains there during the day, and the keeper of the store did quite a business.
Nick approached him as he stood serving coffee and sandwiches to two travelers.