“What’s the idea of flagging us down?” demanded the conductor. “I’m going to report you if you haven’t a mighty good reason.” The agent’s retort was sharp. “Oh, quit your howling. I waved a fuse at you because I had orders from the super to stop this train and deliver a message to one of your passengers.” “What’s that?” bellowed the conductor. “You had the nerve to stop the Southern just to deliver a telegram?” The agent shrugged. “You heard me. Now I’ve got to find this passenger and deliver the message.” “Give it to me. I’ll deliver it.” The conductor reached for the telegram, but the agent backed away. “Oh, no you don’t. I’m going to deliver this in person and get the signature of the man I deliver it to.” “Hurry up there!” It was the engineer, shouting at them above the noise of the storm and the air pumps on the locomotive. “Who’s the telegram for?” asked the conductor. “Bob Houston in lower five, car 43,” replied the agent. “Let’s get going.” “That’s all right, I’ll sign for the telegram,” said Bob. “My name is Houston and I’m in lower five, car 43.” The agent looked suspiciously at him as though he had not expected anyone as youthful looking as Bob. “I’ve got instructions to see a certain badge before I turn over this message,” he said. Bob reached into his inner coat pocket, drew forth his billfold, and produced the badge. “That’s right,” nodded the agent. “Sign this slip.” He produced a pencil and Bob, writing in the light from the headlight, signed his name. “Thanks,” said the agent. Then he turned to the conductor. “All right. Now you can tell that hoghead up there to pick up his wheels and get the string of varnished gondolas out of here. I want to go to sleep.” The conductor snorted, but he was too anxious to get back to his train to make a reply. The vestibule of the forward coach had been opened by the brakeman. They climbed aboard and the engineer whistled off the moment they were on the train. Bob looked at the damp envelope in his hands and suddenly he felt himself shaking slightly. For some reason the Southern Limited had been stopped at a lonely railroad outpost to deliver this message to him. That it was important there could be no doubt for he had been forced to identify himself before he could obtain the message. The coach was less than half full and Bob dropped down in the nearest seat and ripped open the telegram, looking first at the signature. It was from Waldo Edgar, chief of the division of investigation. Bob read the message quickly and thoroughly: “This is to warn you that a man known as Joe Hamsa, traveling south with you on Limited, is now believed linked with gang we want. Watch Hamsa closely and take no chances with him as his record is a ruthless one. In view of this, contact Merritt Hughes and Condon Adams when you reach Jacksonville.”