“But,” cried Mr. Prentice, “that is the train back to New York.”
“Exactly.”
“And you’re not going to see Tuxall?”
“No.”
“Nor to examine the place where the clothes were found?”
“Haven’t time.”
“Mr. Jones, are you giving up the attempt to discover what became of my boy?”
“I know what became of him.”
The minister put out a hand and grasped the back of a chair for support. His lips parted. No sound came from them. Average Jones carefully folded the paper of “gibberish” and tucked it away in his card case.
“Bailey has been carried away by two people in a buggy. They were strangers to the town. He was injured and unconscious. They still have him. Incidentally, he has seriously interfered with a daring and highly ingenious enterprise. That is all I can tell you at present.”