Part 11

Then came the "mind-reading." Placing a small blackboard on the front of the platform, facing the audience, the professor seated himself in a chair ten feet behind it, and invited someone to step to the board and write.

"All I ask is," announced the mind-reader, "please write not too fast, and fix ze mind on what you write. And by ze thought-wave will I tell it, letter by letter."

The first to respond wrote the name of his father, a doctor. Expecting only some humorous guess as to what was written, the audience was somewhat surprised when the professor spelled out the name correctly, only adding the humorous touch of "mud," hastily corrected to "M. D." As others followed with figures, and more difficult names and words, the interest of the audience began to take on a new tone.

The last of the first party which had stepped forward to write was the over-dressed young man Alex had poked some of his fun at, and who was bent on "showing him up."

He wrote: "You are a faker."

"Explain to ze audience how I do it, zen, Mr. Peters," retorted the professor. In some confusion Peters sought his seat, and the minister approached the board.

The interest of the audience had now become serious and silent. Even Kate Orr, though knowing there was trickery somewhere, was nonplussed. For Jack, in the front row, appeared as immovable, and as frankly interested as those about him. Loosely folded in his lap was a newspaper which for a moment attracted Kate's suspicious eye; but watching closely, she saw not the hint of a movement that might have been a signal.

The minister's first word was the name Hosea. This was promptly called off, and the writer went on with others, gradually more difficult. Finally, in rapid succession, one under the other, he wrote "ZEDEKIAH, AHOLIBAH, NEBUCHADNEZZAR." As readily the figure on the platform announced them, and the reverend gentleman turned away with an expression frankly puzzled.

"Pardon me, Mr. Professor, but since this is genuine mind-reading, of course you could read just as well with your eyes blindfolded, could you not? Would you kindly give a demonstration that way?"

It was Peters. There was immediate clapping at the suggestion, and calls of "Yes, yes! Do it blindfolded!"

In alarm Kate, from her seat, gazed toward Jack. To her surprise he was one of the most energetic in clapping the proposal.

The professor himself, however, was plainly disconcerted, to the

## particular delight of Peters and his circle of friends, who, as the

mind-reader continued to hesitate, clapped more and more loudly.

Finally the seer arose. "Well, ladees and gentlemans, if you wish, certainly. Though I do read just as good with my eyes open."

This negative statement brought further derisive laughter and clapping from Peters and his friends, which was added to when the professor continued, "Will some young lady be kind enough to lend me ze handkerchief--ze tiny leetle one with plenty holes all round?"

Peters was again on his feet. "Here is one!"

It was a large, dark neckerchief, obviously brought for this very purpose. As Peters stepped forward and mounted the platform the professor removed his spectacles with apparent reluctance. Broadly smiling, Peters threw the folded kerchief over the mind-reader's eyes, saw that it fitted snugly, and tied it. "Now we've got you, Mr. Smart, of Constantinople," he whispered derisively.

"Have ze good time and laugh while you may," responded the professor, and raising his voice he asked, "Will someone kindly bring ze glass water? Mind-reading, it is dry."

It was Jack started to his feet, passed down the room, and returned with the desired water. Watching, Kate expected to see a consultation between the two boys, as to some way out of the apparent difficulty. Jack, however, merely placed the glass in the extended hand, and received it back without the exchange of a syllable. Not only that, he returned to the back of the hall, and instead of resuming his seat at the front, mounted to a window ledge at the rear.

"Well, I am ready," announced the professor. "And I make ze suggestion that Mr. Peters himself write ze first."

The latter was speedily at the board. As he wrote, a silence fell. Previously the professor had called off each letter as written. This time there was no response. With a smile that gradually broadened to a laugh Peters finished an odd Indian name, and asked, "The thought-waves haven't gone astray already, have they, Mr. Professor? Haven't been frightened off by a mere handkerchief, surely?"

"I was wondering how to pronounce it," came the quiet response. "I'll spell it instead. It is,

"'M U S Q U O D O B O I T.'"

Peters stared blankly. Not more blankly than the majority of the audience, however, including Kate herself. She turned toward Jack. He appeared as surprised as Peters. Indeed, if there was anything suspicious, it was that Jack appeared a trifle over-astonished.

As the burst of applause which followed the first surprise was succeeded by a wave of laughter, Kate turned back to discover Peters, very red in the face, drawing on the board a picture. As she looked a grotesquely ugly face took shape. The face completed, there was a renewed burst of merriment when Peters topped it with a fool's-cap, and on that sketched rough hieroglyphics.

"Now whose picture have I drawn?" he demanded loudly.

"Well, you tried to draw mine," responded the professor, dropping into normal English, "but as the dunce's tie is far up the back of his collar, I leave the audience to decide whose it is."

At this there were shouts and shrieks of laughter, and Peters, hurriedly feeling, and finding his own tie far out of place, threw the chalk to the floor and dashed back to his seat amid a perfect bedlam of hilarity.

The uproar soon subsided, however, for not one in the crowded room but was now thoroughly wonderstruck at the demonstration. Some of the older people began to step forward, writing the most difficult names they could think of, meaningless words, groups of figures. A teacher chalked a proposition in algebra. Without error all were called out promptly.

The climax was reached when one of the church elders advanced to the board, and while writing, fixed his eyes on something in his half-opened hand.

Without hesitation the blindfolded unknown announced, "Mr. Storey is writing the name of one of the Apostles, but is thinking of a penknife."

The clapping which followed was scattered and brief. "It's simply uncanny," exclaimed one of Kate's neighbors. Kate, glancing back toward Jack, shook her head. Up there, in full view, she could not possibly see how he could have anything to do with it.

At this point the minister again stepped forward. "Will you answer a few questions?" he scrawled.

"With pleasure, Mr. Borden."

"How old am I?"

"Forty-nine next September."

The minister ran his fingers through his hair, perplexedly.

"How old is Mrs. Borden?"

There was a slight pause, then in gallant tones came the answer, "Twenty-two."

Amid a renewal of laughter, and much clapping from the ladies, the minister was about to turn away, when on second thought he turned back, and wrote:

"Name the twelve Apostles."

For the first time the learned seer displayed signs of uneasiness. After some stumbling, however, he completed the list.

With a twinkle in his eyes, the preacher inscribed a second question, "Name Joshua's captains."

Prof. Click cleared his throat, ran his fingers down his beard, moved uneasily in his chair, and at length, while a smile began to spread over the room, shook his head.

"But I am thinking of them--hard," declared the minister, chuckling.

The professor was again about to shake his head, when suddenly he paused, then replied boldly, "Shem, Ham, Hezekiah, Hittite, Peter, Goliath, Solomon and Pharaoh."

It was during the shouts of merriment following this ridiculous response that Kate's mystification began to dissolve. Glancing again toward her brother, she saw that, despite a show of laughing, there was an uneasiness in his face similar to that shown by the professor. And when presently she saw him cast a covertly longing eye toward a pile of Bibles in the next window, she turned back to the platform, silently laughing. She thought she had discovered the source of the "thought waves."

The success of the brazenly invented answer to the last question, meantime, had quite restored the professor's confidence, and as the minister went on, he continued to respond in the same ridiculous fashion, claiming, on the minister's protest, that he was only reading the thought-waves as they came to him. And finally the pastor laughingly gave it up.

At the next, and final, "demonstration" mystification of another kind came to the observant Kate. Rising to his feet, the mind-reader announced that he would now inform a few of the "stronger thinkers" before him the subject of their thoughts; and both in his manner and tone Kate noted an unmistakable nervousness. Glancing toward Jack, she saw that his face also was grave, and with a stirring of apprehension of she knew not what, she waited.

"The first thought which reaches me," began the professor, "is from Miss Mary Andrews. Miss Andrews thinks her pretty toque is on straight. It's not quite. I think one pin is coming out."

Following this laughingly applauded "reading," the speaker informed Miss James that she was thinking her lace collar was not loose behind. "Which was quite correct." As also was Mr. Storey's impression that there was not a long blond hair on his coat collar. "There was not."

Then Kate distinctly saw the speaker take a deep breath.

"Mr. Joseph Potter is a strong thinker," he proceeded. "I read several thoughts from Mr. Potter."

The old farmer, to whom the whole performance had appeared as nothing less than magic, leaned out into the aisle, breathless and staring.

"It seems to me, Mr. Potter," the mind-reader went on, "it seems to me you are thinking about some important business deal--some big deal concerning land."

The old man's mouth opened.

"Also it seems to me that this land may be worth a great deal more than--"

There was an exclamation, a commotion, and Burke, the real estate man, was on his feet. A moment he stood staring, as though doubting his ears, then catching up his hat he said in a loud voice, "Come, Mr. Potter, we must go. That other engagement, you know--I had forgotten it."

The old man sprang up, and brushed Burke aside. "Go on! Go on!" he cried toward the figure on the platform. The startled audience gazed from one to another. Several arose.

"It seems to me," resumed Alex quietly, "that there is a waterfall on your farm, and that--"

"Hold on there! Hold on!" The words came in a shout, and springing into the aisle, Burke strode toward the platform, purple with rage. "What do you mean? What are you doing?

"Who is this man?" he demanded at the top of his lungs. "I demand to know! What does he mean by--?"

Swiftly hobbling down the aisle behind him, the old man attempted to pass. Roughly Burke pushed him back.

The minister stepped forward. "Mr. Burke, what do you mean?"

"What does this man here mean by--by--"

"Yes, by what, Mr. Burke?"

"By making reflections against me," shouted Burke. "I demand an explanation! I--"

"But my dear sir, I am sure nothing was said--"

The old man dodged by, ran to the edge of the platform, and cried in a thin, high voice, "Do you mean my farm? My farm that Burke wants to buy?"

There was a momentary silence, during which here and there could be heard long in-drawn gasps. Then abruptly Alex tore the bandage from his eyes, swept off the hat and beard, and stepped to the front.

"There need be no further mystery about this," he declared in a grimly steady voice. "On the train this morning Jack Orr and I accidentally overheard--"

From Burke came a scream, he sprang forward with raised fists, faltered, and suddenly whirling about, dashed down the aisle for the door, and out. And in the breathless silence which followed Alex completed his explanation.

As the old man climbed the platform steps and extended a shaking hand, the applause that burst from every corner of the room fairly rattled the windows; and as the uproar continued, and Alex sprang hastily to the floor, he was surrounded by a jostling, enthusiastic crowd of strangers from whom in vain he sought to escape.

Some minutes later, enjoying tea and cake in a circle which included the minister, the latter smilingly remarked, "But you haven't yet explained the rest of the mysterious doings, Master Alex. Aren't you going to enlighten us all round? Prefer to keep it a secret, eh? Well, if you will promise us another 'exposition' I'm sure we will agree not to press you," declared the minister, heartily.

And as a matter of fact, save Kate, no one has yet solved the mystery, not even the janitor, although on cutting the grass a few days later he picked up beneath one of the school-room windows an unaccountable piece of fine copper wire.

XIV

THE LAST OF THE FREIGHT THIEVES

"No; I'm not after you this time," laughingly responded Detective Boyle to Jack's half serious inquiry on recognizing his visitor at the station one evening a month later as the road detective who on the previous memorable occasion had called in company with the sheriff. "Instead, I want your assistance.

"Do you know," he asked, seating himself, "that your friends the freight thieves are operating again on the division?"

"No!" said Jack in surprise.

"They are. And they have evolved some scheme that is more baffling even than the 'haunting' trick you spoiled for them here last spring. Every week they are getting away with valuable stuff from one of the night freights between Claxton and Eastfield, while the train is actually en route, apparently. That sounds incredible, I know, but it is the only possible conclusion to come to, since the train does not stop between those places, and I made sure the goods each time were aboard when it left Claxton."

Jack whistled. "That does look a problem, doesn't it! But where do I come in, Mr. Boyle?"

"Last evening, while thinking the matter over, the trick the thieves used here at the Junction recurred to me--the man shipped in a box. It came to me: Why couldn't that same dodge be played back against them in this case?"

"Oh, I see! Have yourself shipped in a box, and 'stolen' by them! Clever idea," exclaimed Jack.

"Not so bad I think, myself. Well, in the country between Claxton and Eastfield, where it is my theory the gang has its headquarters, there are no telephone or telegraph lines, and it struck me it would be a good plan to take someone along with me who in case of things going wrong could make his way back to the railroad, and cut in on the wire and call for help. And naturally you were the first one I thought of. Do you want the job?" asked the detective.

"I'd jump at the chance," Jack agreed eagerly. "It'd be more fun than enough.

"But, Mr. Boyle, how do you know that the boxes are taken to the freight thieves' headquarters, unopened, and not broken into right at the railroad?"

"I figure that out from the number and size of the packages they have taken each time--just a good load for a light wagon. And anyway you can see that that would be their safest plan. If they broke up boxes near the track they would leave clues that would be sure to be found sooner or later, and put us on their trail.

"And through a friend in the wholesale dry-goods business at Claxton, who I'll see down there to-night," the detective went on, "I can make practically sure of our being 'stolen' together. The thieves have shown a

## partiality for his goods; and by having our boxes attractively labelled

'SILK,' and placed just within the car door, there will be little chance of the robbers passing us by."

"My plan is to bring it off to-morrow night. Would that suit you?" concluded the detective.

"Yes, sir. That is, if I can get away. For it will take all night, I suppose?"

"Yes. There will be no trouble about your getting off, though. I spoke to Allen before I came down," said Boyle, rising. "All right, it is arranged. You take the five-thirty down to-morrow evening, with the necessary instruments, and I'll be at the station to meet you. Good night."

As Boyle had promised, Jack had no difficulty in arranging to be off duty the following night, and early that evening he alighted from the train at Claxton, to find the railroad detective awaiting him.

"The instruments, eh?" queried Boyle, indicating a parcel under Jack's arm as they left the station. "Yes, sir; and I have some wire and a file in my pocket."

"That's the ticket. And everything here is arranged nicely. We will head for the warehouse at once."

"Here's the other 'bolt of silk,' Mr. Brooke," the detective announced a few minutes later as they entered the office adjoining a large brick building. "All ready for us?"

"Hn! He's a pretty small 'bolt,' isn't he?" commented the merchant, eyeing Jack with some surprise.

"A trifle; but he makes up for size in quality," declared the detective, while Jack blushed. "He is the youngster who solved the 'ghost' riddle and spoiled this same gang's game at Midway Junction."

The merchant warmly shook Jack's hand. "I'm glad to meet you, my boy," he said. "After that, I can readily believe what Boyle says.

"Yes, I am all ready. This way, please," he requested.

Following the speaker, Jack and the detective found themselves in a large shipping-room. As they entered, a workman with a pot and ink-brush in his hand was surveying lettering he had just completed on a good-sized packing-case.

"Here are the 'goods,' Judson," announced the merchant.

"All ready, sir," the workman responded, eyeing Jack and the detective curiously.

"Did you substitute boards with knot-holes?" Mr. Brooke asked.

"Yes, sir. And this is the door," said the man, indicating two wide boards at one end. "I used both wooden buttons and screw-hooks on the inside, as you suggested."

"Good."

The detective examined the box. "You've made a good job of it," he commented.

"I suppose this is the boy's?" he added, turning to a smaller box, on which also were the words: "SILK--VALUABLE!"

With lively interest Jack examined the case.

"Get in and let us see how it fits," suggested the merchant. Jack did so.

"Fine," he announced. "I could ride all night in it, easily--either sitting, or lying down curled up on my side."

Detective Boyle glanced at his watch. "You may as well stay right there, Jack," he said. "We will start just as soon as the wagon is ready."

"It's ready now. Judson, go and bring the dray around," the merchant directed.

As the man left, the detective produced and handed Jack a small pocket revolver. "Here, take this, Jack," said he. "I hope you'll not have to use it, but we must take all precautions.

"Now to box you in." So saying the detective fitted the "door" of Jack's box into place, and Jack on the inside secured it with the hooks and wooden buttons, and announced "O K." The detective then entered his own box, and with the merchant's assistance closed the opening. As he tested it there was a rattle of wheels without, and the big door rumbled open.

A few minutes later the two boxes of "valuable silk" had been slid out onto the truck, and the first stage of the strange journey had begun.

As planned, it was dusk when the two boxes reached the freight depot. The station agent himself met them. "Everything O K, Boyle?" he whispered.

"O K. Place us right before the door, with the lettering out," the detective directed. The agent did as requested, and with a final "Good luck!" closed and sealed the car door just as the clanging of a bell announced the approach of an engine. A crash and a jar told the two unsuspected travelers that their car had been coupled, there was a whistle, a rumble, a clanking over switch-points--and they were on their way.

The wheels had been drumming over the rail-joints for perhaps half an hour, and the disappearance of the light which had filtered through the car door had announced the fall of darkness, when there came a screeching of brakes.

"Where do you suppose we are now, Mr. Boyle?" asked Jack from his box.

"It's the grade just north of Axford Road. When we hit the up-grade two miles beyond we may begin to expect something. It was along there I figured that the--

"What's that?"

Both listened. "One of the brakemen, isn't it?" suggested Jack.

"What is he doing down on the edge of the car roof?"

The next sound was of something slapping against the car door.

Suddenly the detective gave vent to a cry that was barely suppressed.

"Jack, I've got it! I've got it at last!" he whispered excitedly.

"The freight thieves have bought up one of the brakemen! He lets himself down to the car door by a rope, opens it, and throws the stuff out!"

Jack's exclamation of delight at this final revelation of the heart of the mystery was followed by one of consternation. "But won't we get an awful shaking up if we're pitched off, going at full speed?" he said in alarm.

"We may. We'll have to take it. It's all in the game you know," declared Boyle grimly. "Sit tight and brace hard, and it'll not be so bad, though.

"Sh! Here he is!"

There was a sound of feet scraping against the car door, a rattle as the seal was broken and the clasp freed, then a rumble and the sudden full roar of the train told the two in the boxes that the door had been opened.

Swinging within, the intruder closed the door behind him, and lit a match. Peering from a knot-hole, Jack saw that the detective's guess was correct. It was a brakeman.

As Jack watched, the man produced and lit a dark-lantern, and turned it on the cases before him. Jack held his breath as the light streamed through the cracks of his own box.

"Just to order," muttered the brakeman audibly.

"And the bigger one, too. I'll not have to haul any out."

Then, to Jack's momentary alarm, then amusement, the man seated himself on the box, above him.

Presently, as Jack was wondering what the trainman was waiting for, from the distant engine came the two long and two short toots for a crossing, and the man started to his feet. With his eye to the knot-hole Jack watched.

Again came a whistle, and the creaking of brakes. Immediately the brakeman slid the car door back a few inches, flashed his lantern four times, muffled it, and ran the door open its full width.

The critical moment had come. Gathering himself together, Jack braced with knees and elbows. The trainman seized the box, swung it to the door, and tipped it forward. The next instant Jack felt himself hurled out into the darkness.

For one terrible moment he felt himself hurtling through space. Then came a crackle of branches, the box whirled over and over, again plunged downward, and brought up with a crash.