“Do you hear me? Get out of here, I say! Not a word, or I’ll have you—ah! I wonder if there’ll be any more of ’em.”
This last was a chuckle of satisfaction as Millionaire No. 3 fled precipitately. The sergeant rubbed his hands gleefully. This sport bade fair to last all night, he realized to his great satisfaction as he faced about and waited.
He was waiting for number four to show up. He was getting madder still and this time he was fingering his club suggestively. At the very first gleam of a white shirt front he drew it and made a dash for the door.
It was Mr. Vanderpool, number four.
“Get out!” said the irate sergeant, menacingly, and he swung up his weapon. The gentleman thought he had met with a maniac; he gave one glance and then made a dash for the carriage. The officer faced about, replaced his club, and softly murmured “Next.”
But the “next” never came. The sergeant got weary of pacing about and finally sat down again. Half an hour passed and he began to doze; the fun for that night was over, thought he, and laughed when he thought how mad be had been.
“I’d just like to see any Fifth Avenue dudes running this place,” he muttered. “I never heard of such a piece of impertinence in my life!”
Through all this the plebes were peacefully sleeping. What poor Chauncey would have done if he had seen his four uncles insulted by that irate policeman is left to the imagination of the reader. It would most infallibly have been the death of Chauncey, and so perhaps it is just as well that he didn’t awaken.
The clock over the station house door was at three. It will be remembered that the train left at three-thirty. The only train that could possibly save those unfortunate plebes. Three-thirty was the time the ferryboat left. But the station house was two miles and more from the ferry-slip. Altogether things were getting very interesting. For the sergeant dozed on, and the prisoners slept on and the clock went on to three-fifteen. It was a wonder Mark Mallory didn’t have a nightmare.
It is of the nature of thunderbolts to strike swiftly. There is no parleying, no stopping for introductions, no delays. Therefore there will be none in describing what happened next.