The Eagle editor was indeed waiting, and he was very uneasy. "What a calamity it would be," he thought, "to have my own 'devil' arrested for burglary. The Inquirer would enjoy that! It isn't Jack's fault, but I can't bear everything!"
Meanwhile Mary sat at the table and pretended to look among the papers for a new story, but really she was trying to keep from crying over Jack's departure. Mr. Murdoch and Jack had gone to the station.
There was cunning in the plans of the pursuers of Mrs. McNamara's burglar this time. Three of them, each aided by several eager volunteers, dashed around Mertonville, searching every shop in which any sort of face-blacking might be used, and Deacon Abrams himself went to the station with a justice of the peace, a notary-public, a constable, and the man that kept the village pound.
"He won't get by me," said the deacon wisely, as Mr. Murdoch and a neatly dressed young gentleman passed him, arm in arm.
"Good morning, Mr. Murdoch. The Eagle's improving. You did me justice. We're after that same villain now. We'll get him this time, too."
"Deacon," said the editor, gripping Jack's arm hard, "I'll mention your courage and public spirit again. Tie him tighter next time."
"We will," said the deacon; "and I've got some new subscribers for you, and a column advertisement."
Mr. Murdoch hurried to the ticket-window, and Jack patiently looked away from Deacon Abrams all the while.
"There," said Mr. Murdoch, "jump right in. Keep your satchel with you. I'm going back to the office."