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"See here, Henery Holmes," cried Isaac, "it's all right for us old folks, but there's the children. How can they imagine Pleasantville station when some of 'em ain't yet seen a train?" This routed even Henry Holmes. At the store he would never have given in, but he was not accustomed to hearing so loud a murmur of approval greet the opposition.
This is one of the most interesting criminal inquiries I have ever conducted." "Were you up to Pleasantville, Professor?" "Yes, we are coming from there now." "Did you find anything?" "Yes, I found this." He took from a folded slip of paper the bit of frayed thread he had found in the telephone box.
"Your attention for a few moments, gentlemen," called out Bart as there was a hustle on the part of the audience getting together the mass of stuff they had bought. "All the unclaimed heavy express matter at Pleasantville was burned up in the fire of July third, but some twenty small parcels were in the safe, and those we will now dispose of."
"Sure." "On the B. & M. Then the afternoon express is due here from the east in twelve minutes." "You seem to be well-posted." "I ought to be," answered Bart "I am the express agent at Pleasantville." "What!" ejaculated the man incredulously. "Yes," nodded Bart, smiling. "Won't you help me get this trunk to the platform?"
About a week before the present time he had received a brief letter from his roustabout friend, Baker, dated from a town about fifty miles away, telling him that he had been working on a steady job, but had some business in Pleasantville in a few days, and asked Bart to write him as to the whereabouts of Colonel Harrington.
Nor was Pleasantville unprepared to make immediate use of the jail, since the sheriff had in custody a free negro who had knifed another free negro and was awaiting trial at the next term of court. "We don't want to get there too early," explained the judge, as they quitted the cabin. "We want to miss the work, but be on hand for the celebration."
Bart had heard nothing further from the Harringtons not even the echo of a "thank you" had reached him. Pleasantville for a day or two had been full of rumors as to the express robbery, but Bart decided to say very little about it, and only his intimate friends knew the actual circumstances. McCarthy, the night watchman, however, accidentally spread Bart's fame in the right direction.
The edges of one of the books was scorched, which was the only evidence that they had been in the flames. They were all there, and Bart was very glad. He now had in his possession every record of the transactions of the Pleasantville express office since the last New Year's day. "And the contents of the safe are all right, too, that writing says!" exclaimed Bart; "now what does all this mean?"
He turned to Professor Brierly, his hand on the door knob. "Oh, by the way. I had somebody chased up to Pleasantville to see about the cops who wanted to arrest you. They were all gone. The pilot up there says it was a peach of a scrap and he ought to know; he's been in some himself. Rather lucky for you, you were not alone, eh Professor? They didn't expect any one to be with you."
"Then get it!" snapped the Colonel. "Nor can I get it." "Then," observed the colonel, restoring the bit of paper to his pocket "go to jail!" Bart regarded his enemy dumbly. Colonel Harrington was a power in Pleasantville, his will and his way were paramount there. "I am sorry," said Bart finally, in a tone of genuine distress, "but eighty-five dollars is a sheer impossibility in cash.
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