With a dozen other questions hammering at his brain, Tod walked slowly back to the hotel. Passing the telegraph office recalled to his mind the hopeful message he had sent to Reed, the city editor. It was like salt to an open wound. “Reed will hand me another laugh,” he muttered dismally. “Fate’s against me, sure.” He dragged himself through the hotel lobby; then, catching sight of a swinging door and hearing the tinkle of glasses, he determined to do a very unusual thing. “I’ll take a good, stiff drink before I eat,” he said to himself, with an air of martyrdom. He pushed his way into the bar and gulped down a high ball. His lagging and depressed spirits seemed started on the upward climb. He encouraged them by repeating his order. Just as he finished tipping up the second glass a hand fell upon his shoulder. “Hello,” he said, whirling, “who are you?” A flushed and grinning face was lifted to his own. “I remember you,” the intruder stated very clearly, blinking his eyes. “Your friends left you at the dock last night, didn’t they?” “By Jove!” exclaimed Tod, as the truth dawned upon him. “You’re the cabby who——” He stopped, and his heart began to pound swiftly. What luck this was! “What are you drinking?” he asked, motioning to the alert barkeeper. When the drinks were before them, Tod resumed his talk. “Where did you take my friends last night, cabby?” The cabby grinned, tossed off his drink, and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “Take ’em? Well, at first they wanted the police station—then they wanted the railroad station. So I took ’em there!” “To the railroad station?” “Just that. I’m thinkin’ it was funny—but it ain’t my place to ask questions. Just so long as I gets my fare, what’s the odds!” He paused and bestowed a longing glance upon the bottle in front of him. “Fill it up again,” Tod said quickly. “Thanks, I’ll just do that.” The glass was filled and pressed to his lips. “Did you notice what train my friends took?” Tod inquired. “They didn’t both take the same train,” was the unexpected answer. “I—I was hangin’ around waitin’ for a fare, so I watched.” The cabby chuckled to himself. “No, sir, they didn’t! One of ’em takes the four o’clock for Fall River and the other gets on the express for Boston.” “Good Lord!” burst from Tod. Then, after an effort to control his voice, he asked: “Which one took the express for Boston?” The cabby’s head was rolling unsteadily from side to side. “Which—which one? Now jus’ let me see.” He weighed the question for a moment. “One of the men wore a badge. You saw it, didn’t you?” broke from the expectant Tod. “Sure, I saw it,” returned the cabby, wagging a forefinger in the air. “And he—and he was the fellow what took the—the Fall River train.” “The man with the badge took the Fall River train?” “Sure.” “Then the other man went to Boston?” “Sure.”