The Professor sat up and drew his chronometer from under his pillow.
"Seven o'clock," he replied, "five minutes past, maybe."
Quest nodded.
"That seems all right," he declared. "I'll explain later, Professor."
He hurried out into French's tent and found the Inspector just drawing on
his shoes.
"French, what's the time?" he demanded.
"Three minutes past seven, or thereabouts," French replied, yawning. "I'm
coming right along. We've lots of time. Three-quarters of an hour ought to
do it, the boys say."
Quest held out a strip of paper.
"This gave me a turn," he said quietly. "I found it in a black box by the
side of my bed."
French gazed at it in a puzzled manner. They walked outside to the camp,
where the cowboys were finishing their breakfast.
"Say, boss," one of them called out, "you're not making that eight-thirty
train to New York?"
"Why not?" Quest asked quickly. "It's only three quarters of an hour's
ride, is it?"
"Maybe not," the other replied, "but as it's eight now, your chances ain't
looking lively. Kind of overslept, haven't you?"
Both men glanced once more at their watches. Then Quest thrust his back
with a little oath.
"Our watches have been set back!" he exclaimed. "The Hands again!"
For a moment they looked at one another, dumbfounded. Then Quest moved
towards the corral.
"Say, is there any quicker way to the depot?" he enquired of the cowboys.
They heard his question indifferently.
"Fifty dollars," Quest continued, "to any one who can take me by a quicker
route.
Pages:
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323