It was on Wednesday Riggs told us the story of his connection with some

incidents that had been previously unexplained. Halsey had been gone

since the Friday night before, and with the passage of each day I felt

that his chances were lessening. I knew well enough that he might be

carried thousands of miles in the box-car, locked in, perhaps, without

water or food. I had read of cases where bodies had been found locked

in cars on isolated sidings in the west, and my spirits went down with

every hour.

His recovery was destined to be almost as sudden as his disappearance,

and was due directly to the tramp Alex had brought to Sunnyside. It

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seems the man was grateful for his release, and when he learned some

thing of Halsey's whereabouts from another member of his

fraternity--for it is a fraternity--he was prompt in letting us know.

On Wednesday evening Mr. Jamieson, who had been down at the Armstrong

house trying to see Louise--and failing--was met near the gate at

Sunnyside by an individual precisely as repulsive and unkempt as the

one Alex had captured. The man knew the detective, and he gave him a

piece of dirty paper, on which was scrawled the words--"He's at City

Hospital, Johnsville." The tramp who brought the paper pretended to

know nothing, except this: the paper had been passed along from a

"hobo" in Johnsville, who seemed to know the information would be

valuable to us.

Again the long distance telephone came into requisition. Mr. Jamieson

called the hospital, while we crowded around him. And when there was

no longer any doubt that it was Halsey, and that he would probably

recover, we all laughed and cried together. I am sure I kissed Liddy,

and I have had terrible moments since when I seem to remember kissing

Mr. Jamieson, too, in the excitement.

Anyhow, by eleven o'clock that night Gertrude was on her way to

Johnsville, three hundred and eighty miles away, accompanied by Rosie.

The domestic force was now down to Mary Anne and Liddy, with the

under-gardener's wife coming every day to help out. Fortunately, Warner

and the detectives were keeping bachelor hall in the lodge. Out of

deference to Liddy they washed their dishes once a day, and they

concocted queer messes, according to their several abilities. They had

one triumph that they ate regularly for breakfast, and that clung to

their clothes and their hair the rest of the day. It was bacon,

hardtack and onions, fried together. They were almost pathetically

grateful, however, I noticed, for an occasional broiled tenderloin.

It was not until Gertrude and Rosie had gone and Sunnyside had settled

down for the night, with Winters at the foot of the staircase, that Mr.

Jamieson broached a subject he had evidently planned before he came.




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