"Ahem--fine evening."
A grunt answered the Professor's attempt to be sociable. At length,
after casting a keen glance about the car, to find that but few
passengers were present, and those of but little consequence,
Professor Ruggles said:
"He's in the next car."
"Yes. I'd like to get my clutches onto him agin."
"You had him once?"
"Yes, but he had help, and escaped. Do you imagine he's on the trail?"
"Certainly," answered Professor Ruggles.
"Then he'll get off to-night."
"I hope so; but you must be cautious."
"Trust me for that."
"Have you formulated a plan?"
"None."
"Then let me help you."
"I'll be glad to do so."
"If we can get the fellow onto the platform the work will be easy. You
understand, Sam?"
"I reckon."
"Once he goes over nothing can save him."
"True, but how will we git the cuss outside?"
"Easy's preaching. I'll go and introduce myself and get him to wait
this car to try an excellent brand of cigars--see?" And the Professor
chuckled audibly,
"I expect it's easier said than done," returned the thickset villain.
"Twixt you 'n me, Ruggles, Dyke Darrel's cut his eye teeth, an' he
don't walk into no traps with his eyes open, I can tell you that.
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