"What is it?" cried out Bart irrepressibly.
"I'm sorry, Stirling," said the watchman, "but--look there!"
Bart could not restrain a sharp cry of concern. The express office door
stood open, and the padlock and staples, torn from place, lay on the
platform. He rushed into the building. Then his dismay was complete.
"The trunk!" he cried--"it's gone!"
"Yes, it is!" groaned McCarthy, pressing at his heels.
Bart cast a reproachful look at the watchman. The lantern, too, had
disappeared. He sank to the bench, overcome. Finally he inquired
faintly:
"How did it happen?"
"I only know what happened to me," responded the watchman. "I was
drugged."
"When--where--by whom?"
"It's guesswork, that, but the fact stands--I was dosed. You asked me to
watch, and I did watch. Up to midnight that lantern on top of the trunk
wasn't out of my sight fifteen minutes at a time."
"And then?" questioned Bart.
"I always go over to the crossing switch shanty about twelve o'clock to
eat my lunch. The old switchman lends me his night key. I put my lunch
in on the bench when I come on duty, and he always leaves the stove full
of splinters to warm up the coffee quick.
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