They led him away to the patrol wagon, the erstwhile bridegroom, and in place of the immaculate linen he had searched so frantically for in his apartment they put upon his wrists cuffs of iron. They put him in a cell and left him with eyes of the old man for company and the haunting likeness of his son’s voice filling him with frenzy. The unquenchable thirst came upon him and he begged for brandy and soda, but none came to slake his thirst, for he had crossed the great gulf and justice at last had him in her grasp. CHAPTER VII Meantime the man on the steps of the last car of the Chicago Limited was having his doubts about whether he ought to have boarded that train. He realized that the fat traveller who was hurling himself after the train had stirred in him a sudden impulse which had been only half formed before and he had obeyed it. Perhaps he was following a wrong scent and would lose the reward which he knew was his if he brought the thief of the code-writing, dead or alive, to his employer. He was half inclined to jump off again now before it was too late; but looking down he saw they were already speeding over a network of tracks, and trains were flying by in every direction. By the time they were out of this the speed would be too great for him to attempt a jump. It was even now risky, and he was heavy for athletics. He must do it at once if he did it at all. He looked ahead tentatively to see if the track on which he must jump was clear, and the great eye of an engine stabbed him in the face, as it bore down upon him. The next instant it swept by, its hot breath fanning his cheek, and he drew back shuddering involuntarily. It was of no use. He could not jump here. Perhaps they would slow up or stop, and anyway, should he jump or stay on board? He sat down on the upper step the better to get the situation in hand. Perhaps in a minute more the way would be clearer to jump off if he decided not to go on. Thus he vacillated. It was rather unlike him not to know his own mind.