“Yep. It’s been a long night, I’ll say. I haven’t been to bed yet”
“You haven’t?”
“No. I ran off a party. Then I ran onto this clew and I’ve been busy on it ever since.”
“Well, we’ll soon know what’s what, Bob. There’s the station right ahead of us.”
“Yes, and here comes the milk,” added Bob, as a shrill whistle cut the keen, morning air.
“We’re just about in time,” remarked the constable.
Perry Junction was not a station of any importance save that certain fast trains stopped there to pick up passengers from other points along the line. And it was evidently the object of the two men to take advantage of this. Bob had made his plans well, and they would have worked out admirably save for one thing.
The two men he was after weren’t on the train. A simple thing, but it loomed big.
Bob and the constable leaped from their flivver as the milk train drew to a screeching stop, and the two hid themselves behind a corner of the station. It was now light enough so that they could see who got off the milk train. But the man with the iron hook and the man who had been masquerading as an organ grinder, were not among the passengers that alighted.
“Looks like they give us the slip, Bob,” observed Mr. Tarton.