Andrew smiled. Then he stared thoughtfully at the table. At last he seized the roll of money, thrust it in his pocket and pushed back his chair. “Guess you’re right, Joe,” he said. “What time did you say the train goes?”
“Nine-five.” Joe jerked out his watch. “You’ve got forty minutes. Better pack a toothbrush and a night-shirt, kiddo.”
“Pack nothing,” replied Andrew. “A toothbrush and a comb will see me through, and those go in my pocket. I want that brown book, though, and some sheets of paper. Better have my fountain pen, too. You’ll have to take a message to Wynant, 29 Williams, for me, Joe. Better do it tonight. Tell him I’m called away and can’t be around in the morning. I’ll see him when I get back. Now, what about the dogs? Mind coming around in the morning and letting them out and feeding them? Good! We’re off, then.”
Andrew turned out the light and they fumbled their way to the door. Outside, Andrew gave the key to Joe. “Don’t forget the dogs, Joe,” he reminded. “Now, then, tell me again about these trains. It’s Philadelphia I’m going to, is it?”
Joe explained carefully as they hurried through the illy-lighted streets toward the station. “Better get to Philadelphia by the first train you can make, Andy. You can sleep on the way, some. The first Sunday train for Port Foster leaves Philadelphia at twelve minutes past seven. There isn’t another until ten-something. He may wait for that. You’ll have to watch for him on the platform. For the love of mud, Andy, don’t miss him!”
“I won’t!” answered the other grimly as they entered the station. “Wait here a minute. I’m going to call up the Office.”
“The Office!” exclaimed Joe aghast. “What for?”
“To get permission.”
“But——”
“I know. I won’t. Here, you buy the ticket. Get it to Philadelphia and return if you can. I’ll be right with you.”