She seemed to be
asking a thousand questions.
He went down to the dingy lobby. A single, half-hearted electric bulb
shed its feeble light on the desk, in front of which stood a man
registering under the sleepy eye of the night clerk.
After the late arrival had started upstairs in the wake of the clerk,
Barnes stepped up to inspect the book. The midnight express from the
north did not stop at Crowndale, he had learned upon inquiry, and it
was the only train touching the town between nightfall and dawn.
The register bore the name of Thomas Moore, Hornville. There was not
the slightest doubt in Barnes's mind that this was the man who had
been detailed to shadow the luckless Peter. Only an imperative demand
by government authorities could have brought about the stopping of the
express at Hornville and later on at Crowndale.
Barnes smiled grimly. "I've just thought of a way to fool you, my
friend," he said to himself, and was turning away when a familiar
voice assailed him.
Whirling, he looked into the face of a man who stood almost at his
elbow,--the sharp, impassive face of Mr. Sprouse.
CHAPTER XX
THE FIRST WAYFARER HAS ONE TREASURE THRUST UPON HIM--AND FORTHWITH
CLAIMS ANOTHER
That fellow is a rat-catcher," said Sprouse.
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