Frank piled over the backs of half a dozen seats and got at the water tank. He wet his handkerchief, returned to his charge, and applied it to his head. In a minute or two the professor recovered his senses.
“There’s been a collision, I assume,” he remarked. “Look at that front end all smashed in! We’re lucky. Let us get out of this and see where we’re stranded.”
“Why, yes,” agreed Frank, “only—where’s the satchel!”
For the first time Frank thought of it. The car was pretty well vacated by this time, and many had left wraps and satchels behind in their haste to reach a place of safety. Frank made a casual and then a more careful survey of the floor of the coach. He finally returned to his anxious-faced friend.
“Professor Barrington,” he said, “I fear, after all our vigilance and trouble, we have been outwitted.”
“What do you mean, Mr. Durham?”
“Your satchel is missing.”
“Perhaps somebody caught it up by mistake. See, a lot of people have left their belongings behind them all mixed up. Maybe someone took it in the excitement of the moment.”
“I’d like to think that; I hope you are right,” rejoined Frank. “We must get outside and make a search right away.”
Frank had not told the professor about the man who had sat just ahead of them, and who he felt sure was an accomplice of the fellow who had tried to steal the satchel. In his own mind Frank felt sure that this accomplice had obtained the professor’s satchel during the confusion in the passenger coach.