I fished out a quarter and rang for Bolder. "Send him away," I said, somewhat impatiently.
The servant returned looking puzzled. "The organ-grinder said I was to give this to the gentleman," he said, and handed me a small object. It was a brass baggage-check issued by the New York Central Railway, from Cleveland to New York, and bore the number 18329. I passed it to Indiman, ran to the window, and looked out. But the organ-grinder was gone.
IX
The Brass Baggage-Check
It is not every day in the week that a hand-organ plays "Celeste Aida" under one's window with an F natural in the third bar where the music rightfully calls for F sharp. Nor is it usual to send out a quarter of a dollar to the man as an inducement for him to retire, and then to receive in return a New York Central baggage-check numbered 18329, and reading from Cleveland to New York. Esper Indiman and I exchanged smiles.
"This looks like the real thing," said my friend. "My dear Thorp, there must be some rare element in your chemical make-up that serves to precipitate these delightful mysteries. Adventures fairly flock about us. We shall have to screen the doors and windows or be overwhelmed. Seriously, I am infinitely obliged to you, for I had started on my eleventh game of solitaire, and was beginning to feel a trifle bored. But now—now there is something doing, as Mr. Devery would remark. Let us start the ball rolling by giving Bolder the third degree."
Bolder, recalled, was disposed to be cheerfully communicable. Certainly he would know the man again; he had a good look at him. The sun was shining brightly, and it had fallen full on the fellow's face.
"Describe him, then," said Indiman, note-book in hand.
Put to the test, Bolder was not so good a witness as we had hoped for; he wandered and grew confused in his statements. Light hair? Yes, it might have been that—though, now that he thought of it, the shade was rather on the darkish order. An old man? Well, not noticeably so; perhaps thirty-five or a little younger.