“But I know nothing about the affair, except that the train stopped and that a robbery is said to have been committed,” the woman objected. “Besides, my home is in Philadelphia, and it would not be convenient for me to be summoned to an investigation.” “You would be excused, no doubt, in that case,” persisted the conductor. “Surely, madam, you have no other reason for refusing to give me your name and address.” “No other reason!” she exclaimed impatiently. “Certainly not, sir!” “Kindly do so, then.” The woman hesitated for another moment. “By Jove, she is deciding whether to give him a fictitious name,” thought Chick, intently watching her frowning face. “She’ll not be fool enough to do so.” Chick was right. The woman decided nearly as quickly as he that deception at that time might later make her liable to serious suspicion. She drew herself up a bit haughtily and said: “Very well, then, since you insist upon it. My name is Janet Payson.” “Thank you,” smiled the conductor. “And your address?” “No. 20 Martin Street, Philadelphia.” The conductor bowed and moved on. “Martin Street,” thought Chick, instantly recalling the signature on the Dalton telegram. “Martin fits in here, all right. She told the truth, and I’ve picked up a very proper lead. It’s not such a long, long way to Tipperary, after all. We shall see.” The woman left the train at Shelby, carrying only a suit case, and she accosted a cabman outside of the station. “Shelby House,” she directed curtly. Chick was at her elbow and heard her. Ten minutes later he read her name inscribed on the hotel register: “Miss Janet Payson, Philadelphia.” CHAPTER VI. HOW PATSY MADE GOOD. It was one o’clock when Chick Carter entered his room in the Shelby House. He removed his coat, hat, and disguise, then lit a cigar and sat down to size up the circumstances and the evidence he had found in the express car. How was the robbery committed? How did Cady figure in it, and what became of him? How had Nick been overcome, and why had he been carried away by the bandits, assuming that he had not been killed and thrown from the car? Chick did not believe the last. He would have seen the body when hastening up the tracks. He knew that these crooks would commit murder only as a last resort, moreover, and the evidence in the car did not point to bloodshed and murder. Chick felt reasonably sure, in fact, that Nick was alive and in the hands of the desperadoes. “Two empty packing cases and an open safe, opened by means of the combination,” he mused intently. “No force apparent except what must have been required to get the best of Nick and Cady. But could two men concealed in packing cases, and the cases could not have contained more than two, have overcome two such men as Nick and Cady? By Jove, it doesn’t seem possible.