“I’m not. I wish I were, Mrs. Bennett. I’m sorry he left without settling with you, ma’am. Could you tell me where he’s gone?” “I can not. If I knew I’d be settin’ the police on him, never fear! From the first I suspicioned him, the dirty rascal, but he had a smooth tongue on him and was always promisin’ he’d pay tomorrow. If I knew where he’d gone to I’d not be gabbin’ here in the doorway! ’Twas while I was out to the store after dinner he sneaked in and packed his bag and took it away with him, knowin’ I’d not stand for it if I was by. Two weeks’ money and the half-dollar――――” “And you can’t tell me whether he’s left town or just changed his lodgings, Mrs. Bennett?” “All I know is he’s gone, bad luck to him! Is he maybe owin’ you money, too, sir?” “A little, yes. I’m much obliged, ma’am. Good-night.” “If you find him now, let me know, sir. That’s all I’m askin’ you. Just you let me know, sir! The dirty scallawag! Cheatin’ a poor, hard-workin’ woman out of her money!” The door slammed and Joe stumbled back to the uncertain sidewalk and retraced his steps along the ill-lighted street. When he reached Indiana Street he unhesitatingly turned southward and five minutes later saw the lights of the railroad ahead. His course had already been determined and the visit to Mr. Chester Young’s lodgings had been made with little hope of either finding the defaulting clerk or gaining useful information. Chester had given Joe the impression that he lived with his mother, which accounted for the latter mistaking the identity of the woman at the door. Chester, it seemed, was a very tricky young man. At the station Joe examined the time-table in the waiting-room. Chester had left the building somewhere about a quarter to five. At five-two a train had left for Fostoria, Fremont and Sandusky, connecting at Fremont for Toledo. There was no train between that and a quarter to five and none afterwards until twenty minutes to six, when the south-bound express had left for Columbus. Everything indicated the five-two as the train Chester had taken if, as Joe suspected, he had really left Amesville. The ticket window was closed, but a rap on the door gained him admittance to the little room wherein the agent was seated at the telegraph instrument. He looked up inquiringly, nodded, worked the key a moment, listened to the reply, and then swung around in his swivel chair. “Well, sir, what’s troubling you?” he asked gaily. “I wanted to ask if you remembered selling a ticket to a fellow for the five-two train,” stated Joe. “Maybe. What sort of a fellow? There were only nine passengers from here on Number 14, so far as I know. What did he look like?” Joe’s description was clear and concise and the agent nodded again. “I remember the chap,” he said. “He bought to――Hold on, now. What business is it of yours, my boy? Is he a friend of yours, or what’s the game?”