in on it. I certainly wish you'd put me wise to it"
"By the way," inquired Magee, "did you notice the passengers from here on the ten-thirty train last night?"
"Ten-thirty," repeated the agent. "Say, what sort of hours do you think I keep? A man has to get some sleep, even if he does work for a railroad. I wasn't here at ten-thirty last night. Young Cal Hunt was on duty then. He's home and in bed now."
No help there. Into the night the girl and the two hundred thousand had fled together, and Mr. Magee could only wait, and wonder, as to the meaning of that flight.
Two drooping figures entered the station—the mayor and his faithful lieutenant, Max. The dignity of the former had faded like a flower, and the same withered simile might have been applied with equal force to the accustomed jauntiness of Lou.
"Good morning," said Mr. Magee in greeting. "Taking an early train, too, eh? Have a pleasant night?"
