One of the Cullens' servants opened the door of 218, and I heard the sheriff's voice telling him he'd got to search the car. The darky protested, saying that the "gentmun was all away, and only de miss inside." The row brought Miss Cullen to the door, and I heard her ask what was the matter.
"Sorry to trouble yer, miss," said the sheriff, "but a prisoner has broken jail, and we've got to look for him."
"Escaped!" cried Madge, joyfully. "How?"
"That's just what gits away with me," marvelled the sheriff. "My idee is—"
"Don't waste time on theories," said Camp's voice, angrily. "Search the car."
"Sorry to discommode a lady," apologized the sheriff, gallantly, "but if we may just look around a little?"
"My father and brothers went out a few minutes ago," said Madge, hesitatingly, "and I don't know if they would be willing."
Camp laughed angrily, and ordered, "Stand aside, there."
"Don't yer worry," said the sheriff. "If he's on the car, he can't git away. We'll send a feller up for Mr. Cullen, while we search Mr. Gordon's car and the station."
They set about it at once, and used up ten minutes in the task. Then I heard Camp say—