“Nor could Janet Payson’s companion have had any hand in the work done in the express car. He would have had time only to disconnect the train, which he certainly went forward to do. All that was cut and dried, previously planned, and it was done by a man expert at such work. “Is it possible, then, that Cady is in league with these crooks? Did he hold up Nick and get him with the help of his hidden confederates? Did he open the safe? Did he substitute—stop one moment! By Jove, there was no substitute money package in the car, nor in the safe, or I must surely have seen it. I made a thorough inspection.” Chick’s brows knit closer under the mental concentration with which he strove to fathom the conflicting circumstances. “That special-delivery letter certainly mentioned a substitute. It read, I remember distinctly: ‘We’ll have the substitute down fine in ample time and the other dead to rights.’ “H’m, that’s not so clear, in view of what has occurred and the fact that no substitute money package was found in the car. It certainly is worded a bit oddly. To have one dead to rights is a term usually applied to a situation, a gang, or a man; not to a parcel, package, or anything of that kind. “By Jove, it may in this case have been a man. The substitute may have been a man in place of Cady. That would explain Cady’s disappearance from the car. A man made up to perfectly resemble Cady—that’s it, by gracious, as sure as I’m a foot high,” Chick decided. “That’s why Martin worded the letter in that way, that he’d have a substitute down fine, in ample time. A substitute to take Cady’s place in the express car—that’s what!” Chick’s countenance had lighted. Through this process of reasoning he had deduced the one fact, the one crafty subterfuge, that had made the robbery possible under all of the other known circumstances. It told Chick, too, how easily confederates of the substitute rascal could have been concealed in the car, and how easily Nick could have been held up and overcome under such unexpected adverse conditions. “But what has become of Cady?” Chick next asked himself. “He was supposed to be in Philadelphia, of course, in order to make this run. By Jove, I have it! Got him dead to rights, eh? I’ll see about that. I’ll set another ball rolling in this game—one that may knock out a ten-strike.” Chick sprang up with the last and hastened down to the hotel office. Entering a telephone booth and closing the door, he called up the central exchange and learned that he could quickly get a clear wire to Philadelphia. “I want the police headquarters,” said he. “The officer in charge.” Chick had waited only seven minutes, when the operator rang him up and announced: “All ready.” “Hello!” Chick called. “Police headquarters, Philadelphia?” “Yes.”