CHAPTER XV
A PIECE OF CHALK
Frank Newton had said that Markham was a first-class peddler. If he hadfollowed his young friend as he darted from the house, he would alsohave noted him quite a proficient amateur detective.
Markham looked down the street after the retreating figures of oldDorsett and his companion. He saw they were bound for the businesscentre of the town. He cut down an alley, and heading them off allowedthem to pass him by and quietly followed on their trail.
When they went up into a building occupied as offices for a justice ofthe peace and lawyers, Markham in a few moments trailed after them.
Loitering about the hall, he could watch them conversing with a villagemagistrate at his desk. The latter consulted a copy of the statutes,expounded some point under discussion, and finally filled out severallegal blanks.
Markham was industriously reading the notices tacked to the justice’sbulletin board outside of his office door, as Dorsett came out of theroom.
“Hold on, Sherry,” he said to his companion. “I’ll settle with you now.”
“All right, governor,” bobbed the man.
“You are deputized to serve these papers. Don’t get them mixed. Got anytacks?”
“I’ll get some all right.”
“Very well. When you have disposed of the first two documents, serve thelast one on Mrs. Ismond, see?”
“Sure, I see, governor--ah, and glad to see this five-dollar bill. Firstone I’ve seen, in fact, for an age.”
“When you’re all through, report to me.”
“I will, governor.”
They kept together till they reached the street. Arrived there, Dorsettwent one way, his hireling another.
Markham put after the latter, who was so elated over the possession ofmoney that he chuckled and swung along the street with a great air ofimportance and enjoyment.
The man Sherry went straight to the railway depot. Markham, looking inthrough one of its windows, saw him approach the station agent. To himSherry read one of the documents and came out again.
The second day of Markham’s residence in Greenville, he had done quitean heroic act. It had made the railroad men his friends. One of theirnumber had celebrated pay day too freely. He had stumbled across atrack.
Markham had run at the top of his speed, and had even risked life andlimb to reach him in time to drag him out of the way of a freight trainbacking down upon him.
“Mr. Young,” said Markham, running into the depot by one side door asSherry left it by another, “you remember me?”
“Sure, I do. How are you?” said the depot master heartily.
“I’m worried to death to find out what that man who was just here is upto,” said Markham, hurriedly.
“Up to? Down to, you mean,” flared out Young. “He’s served a paper on meas the representative of the railway company, notifying me that we areto hold the car containing Mrs. Ismond’s furniture until the matter of adebt she owes old Dorsett is settled in court.”
“Mrs. Ismond does not rightfully owe him a cent,” asserted Markham.“It’s a mean, malicious trick of the old reprobate to persecute myfriend, Frank Newton. Can they stop the car?”
The station agent shrugged his shoulders dubiously.
“They won’t get any help from me,” he said. “That man asked me where thecar was. I told him to find out--I wasn’t hunting for it. I’d likenothing better than to delay him for two hours. By five o’clock thenorth freights will have left the yards. Once out of the county, thatfurniture would be safe.”
“Thank you,” said Markham. “I’ll see what I can do.”
He ran out of the depot forthwith. Sherry had crossed the road. Markhamsaw him coming out of one of the taverns lining the street in thatimmediate vicinity.
Sherry had one or two men with him with whom he had evidently beentreating. They walked along with him until they reached another hauntof the same class, and went in there.
Markham got in a doorway near the entrance to the place. In a fewminutes Sherry came out to the street.
He had his hat stuck back and his head up by this time, and wasofficious and blatant in his manner.
“I’d like to stay with you, boys,” he announced. “Join you later. Got abig responsibility on my shoulders just now.”
“That so?” smirked one of the hangers on.
“You bet. See that paper?” and Sherry produced a document.
“We see it.”
“I can tie up the whole railroad system here if I want to,” he bragged.
Markham hurried off in the direction of the freight tracks. There was awide crossing where the sidings began. A flagman guarded this. Markhamran up to him. This man, as he knew, was a brother of the railroader hehad saved from being run over by the freight train.
“Mr. Boyce,” said Markham, “will you do me a favor?”
“Sure, will I,” cried the flagman. “We’re a whole family of friends toyou, boy.”
“All right. Have you got a piece of chalk--the kind they use for markingon the cars?”
“Dozens of it. Here’s a handful, my hearty,” and the flagman dartedinto the little shanty and out again with a fistful of great chunks ofchalk.
“All right,” said Markham, selecting a piece. “Now then, do you see thatman coming down the track?”
“Yes,” nodded the flagman.
“He will ask you about the out freights, maybe about some particular car.It’s the car holding Frank Newton’s furniture that he’s after--theirhousehold goods they’re shipping to Pleasantville.”
“Aha,” nodded Boyce.
“I will be in sight,” went on Markham, rapidly. “Point me out to him.Say I can tell him, will you?”
“But what for--no, that’s all right. I will, I will,” pledged theflagman.
Markham ran down a siding. He was busy about a certain car for a fewminutes. As, after interviewing the flagman, Sherry came that way, hediscovered Markham seated on top of a locked box car idly kicking hisheels against its side.
“Hey, hello,” hailed Sherry--“this the out freights?”
“How should I know?” muttered Markham.
“Oh, I know you. You’re the fellow who trains with young Newton. Ofcourse you’d be here, and of course this is the car. Yes,” decidedSherry, scanning its side. “Sure. Here’s the destination marked inchalk.”
Sherry read the sprawling writing: “7-23, Pleasantville,” marked acrossthe locked door of the car, and pulled out a document.
“That’s the way we do it,” he said in a boastful chuckle, picking up acoupling pin and using it to hammer some tacks through the paper. “Thereyou are. In the name of the law this car seized in transit, ipse dixit,e pluribus unum, according to the statoots therein pervided. Quite alawyer, hey? Boy, it’s a life sentence to tamper with that car till thejudge says move her.”
“It is?” said Markham, tranquilly.
The big braggart swaggered away. Markham jumped down, watched him outof sight, jumped up and cracked his heels together. Then with hishandkerchief he rubbed off the destination mark that had deluded oldDorsett’s boisterous and self-important emissary.
Then Markham chuckled as he glanced at the document tacked to the cardoor. He now moved over to a line of made-up freights on another track.He lingered in their vicinity for over an hour.
When he had seen an engine run on a caboose and then switch to the headof the train, Markham, with a good deal of complacency in his face,started back to join his friends.
As he neared the house where he had left Mrs. Ismond and Frank, henoticed a man leave the place. It was Sherry.
“All right,” announced Markham, breaking in upon his friends a momentlater. “I’ve found out what old Dorsett is up to.”
“Yes, so have we,” answered Frank, who stood by the side of his mother,who was looking down dejectedly. “They have just notified us that thecar containing our furniture is attached.”
“That so?” said Markham, with a
broad smile. “Well, what are you goingto do, Frank?”
“We can’t leave Greenville, that’s all,” said Frank, with a sigh.“Mother, I’ll go down to the station and get the money back for ourtickets.”
“Hold on,” cried Markham, “you won’t do any such thing. How soon doesthat train leave, Frank?”
“In half an hour.”
“Well, get your traps together. You’re going to take that train allright.”
“Why, what are you talking about?” demanded Frank, staring at Markham inwonder.
“I mean that fellow who was just here has made a mess of it,” saidMarkham. “He’s attached a car all right, but not your car.”
“What?”
“No, sir-ree! Your car, my dear Frank, I am happy to tell you, is bythis time twenty miles over the county line whirling on its way toPleasantville. Hip, hip, hurrah!”
“See here, Markham,” said Frank, seriously, seizing his friend’s arm inan endeavor to cure his jubilant antics. “What have you been up to.”
“Me? Nothing,” declared Markham, assuming the vacant bumpkin look heexpressed so well when he gave a character delineation. “It’s oldDorsett’s emissary who was up to something--up to the wrong car, see? Hehas tacked that attachment notice onto a poor innocent old car filledwith ballasting cinders. Never mind now. I’ll tell you later. Don’t missthe train, Frank.”
There were hurried good-byes to their kind-hearted neighbor. Frank andMarkham, each carrying two satchels, piloted Mrs. Ismond to the railroadstation.
Just as the train came in from the south a man drove past the depotplatform. He drew up his horse with a jerk. It was Dorsett.
He stared in amazement at the departing trio. Then suddenly, as ifsuspecting some trick, he got out of his gig and hurried across to thetrain.
Frank had got his mother to a comfortable seat. The coach window wasopen.
“You leave at your peril, widow Ismond,” shouted Dorsett. “That stuff ofyours is attached. We’ve stopped the freight car, and--”
“All aboard!” sang out the conductor.
“Hold on, stop--zounds!” yelled Dorsett at the top of his voice.
He was lifted from his feet suddenly. Some one rushing down the platformat cyclone speed had collided with him.
It was Nelson Cady. He was hatless, his hair flying in the wind, hiswhole appearance that of fearful excitement.
“Say, conductor,” he panted out breathlessly. “Three people just got onthe train--where are they? Must see Frank Newton!”
“Hi, there, Nelson,” hailed Frank, waving his hand through the opencoach window.
“Oh, jolly!” shouted Nelson, keeping on a run with the moving train.“See Frank!”
Nelson tugged at his pocket. He pulled out a white, fluttering sheet ofpaper.
“Frank, Frank,” his excited tones rang out after the vanishingtrain--“I’ve got my letter at last!”