“Thanks, no, I’ve got to get home. Call me up this evening and tell me what he says. Much obliged, and I hope that job will pan out, fellows. Good-night!”
It was getting dark in the building when Fudge and Perry went in and climbed the stairs. Halfway up they encountered some of the workers in the glove factory, but after that the building seemed deserted. At the top of the last flight, though, they discovered that it wasn’t, for, in front of Mr. Addicks’ door at the end of the twilit corridor a bulky figure stood. As the boys looked the figure took on the appearance of a policeman. The policeman—they could see him more plainly now that their eyes had accustomed themselves to the half darkness—rapped loudly, imperatively on the door. He waited, and, as there was no response, he tried the handle. The door was locked. Then he bent close to the sign, as though making certain he was not mistaken, glanced up at the closed transom and swung around. Fudge dragged Perry forward and began an examination of the signs on the nearer portals as the policeman, walking almost noiselessly on rubber-soled shoes, passed them with a brief but searching glance. As his quiet footfalls died away in the hall below Fudge turned a wild, alarmed gaze on Perry.
“They’re after him!” he whispered hoarsely.
CHAPTER XIX
THE TRAIN-ROBBER IS WARNED
Mr. Myron Addicks returned home rather later than usual that afternoon. Although he had knocked about the world a good deal during his twenty-seven years, and had put up with a good many discomforts, he had been telling himself of late that his present domicile was about as dreary and unsatisfactory as any he had ever endured. The best thing he could say of it was that the rent was cheap, cheaper than that of any other room he had been able to find in Clearfield. But there was little else to be said in its favor. There was no view to be enjoyed, the building was silent and lonely after dark—save in the basement, from whence a strong odor of baking arose every night—and a bath was almost an impossibility. Unfortunately, until his income had at least doubled itself, he could not afford to pay more, and this afternoon, tramping along a country road outside of town, he had reached the conclusion that any increase in his income was not to be expected and that the best thing he could do was to hit the trail back West. In short, he was rather discouraged to-day, a condition of mind very unusual with him, and when he entered the building to climb the two flights to his cheerless “home” he had just about determined to pack his battered trunk.
He stopped, as was his custom, to apply a match to the single gas-jet at the top of the first flight, and repeated the operation in the hall above. And having turned the key to his liking he heard his name spoken and looked into the anxious faces of Fudge and Perry.
“Hello!” he greeted them. “What are you fellows doing up here?”
His tone lacked warmth, but the boys didn’t notice the fact.
“We came to see you about something,” replied Fudge, in lowered voice. And then he glanced apprehensively toward the stairs. “Do you mind if we go in your room, sir?”