"Hello!" he forcibly ejaculated, as it flashed by him, the corner street lamp irradiating its interior brightly--"there's queer company for you!" The remark was warranted. The occupants of the vehicle were Colonel Jeptha Harrington and Lem Wacker. CHAPTER XXVII LATE VISITORS The little express office was dark and lonely-looking when Bart again reached it. Bart unlocked the office door, shot the inside bolt carefully after him, lighted the lantern, placed it on the desk, and opened the safe. As he selected the big brown envelope marked "Martin & Company," and bearing the express company's shining green seals, his fingers tingled. The immensity of the sum intrusted to his charge perturbed him a trifle. Bart relocked the safe, stowed the envelope in an inner pocket, and opened the drawer of a little stand leaning against the safe. He took out a revolver. Mr. Leslie himself had advised him to always have one handy in the express office. Bart had never touched the weapon before. It had been loaned him by Mr. Haven, and Darry had brought it to the office. Bart slipped it now into a side pocket. He noticed in detail the entry on the messenger's slip. The prepaid charges on the Martin & Company consignment were seven dollars and seventy-five cents, or five cents for every hundred dollars or fraction of it over the first fifty dollars, which was charged for at regular tariff rates, twenty-five cents. "It is fifteen thousand dollars, right enough!" mused Bart. "Now, to make sure of the form of receipt." He filled out a special receipt that acknowledged besides the usual delivery, a verification of the amount of the inclosure, its acceptance as correct, and left a blank for the names of two witnesses. Bart was now ready to sally forth on his peculiar errand, and had fully decided in his mind the persons he would get to act as his witnesses. "What is that!" he questioned, suddenly and sharply. He could hear a springy vehicle bound over the near tracks, and then its wheels cut the loose cindered road leading up to the express office. It halted. He could catch the quick, labored breathing of two horses, a carriage door creaked! some low voices made a brief hum of conversation, and the vehicle seemed to depart. Bart stood stock-still, wondering and guessing. Footsteps sounded on the platform. There came a thundering thump as of a heavy cane on the office door. "Who is there?" demanded Bart. "Colonel Harrington. I've got to see you." "Come in," Bart said, unbolting the door. Colonel Harrington was red of face and fussy of manner. He threw the door shut with his foot, and sank to a bench, breathing heavily. "Was there something you wanted to say to me, Colonel Harrington?" inquired Bart. "Yes there was!" snapped out the rich man of Pleasantville. "Anxious to see you! Just drove up to your house. They told me you were here. I once offered you a hundred dollars." Bart nodded, with a faint smile.