The clerk nodded.
“Very well,” he said. “We’re open all night. I’ll try and get another report for you, Miss Allison.”
She nodded, turned and walked swiftly through the door, out into the night.
Sidney Zoom waited a moment, then moved over to the desk where the girl had been sitting. Once more, he took a telegraph blank and scribbled aimless words upon it. Then he made a gesture of frowning annoyance, crumpled up the blank and dropped it into the wastebasket.
A moment later he leaned forward, as though to retrieve the crumpled telegram.
The clerk had ceased to pay any attention to Sidney Zoom.
Zoom’s fingers picked up the torn fragments of the telegram which the girl had written. He placed these torn fragments together upon the desk and studied the message.
The telegram was addressed to Mr. George Grace, 912 West 25th Street, and read: Require hundred dollars immediately save me from jail Wired Evelyn but have had no answer Can you spare money Send me care Western Union here.
Sidney Zoom regarded the message for several minutes, then dropped the torn pieces into his pocket, arose and strode from the lighted room, into the street.
The police dog rose from the shadows near the door. Gravely, sedately, he padded along by the side of his master.
Sidney Zoom went to the place where he had parked his roadster. A wave of his wrist, and the dog, catching the signal, leapt up from the pavement in a long arch of graceful motion, and dropped into the rumble seat.
Sidney Zoom started the motor and drove rapidly and purposefully, going to a branch telegraph station that he knew was open.
He parked the car, entered the small room, and said to the operator in charge: “Here is a hundred dollars. I want it wired to Ruby Allison, care of the telegraph company here. You may waive identification.”
The clerk frowned heavily at Sidney Zoom.
“You want to send it to some person care of the company in this city?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Sidney Zoom. “So that it will go to your main office for delivery.”
The clerk looked dubious for a moment, then handed Sidney Zoom a blank.
“Very well,” he said, “fill it in.”
Sidney Zoom took one hundred dollars from his pocket, placed the bills on the counter, asked for the amount of the charges, and paid those.
The clerk looked down at the signature Sidney Zoom had affixed to the blank.
“You’ve simply signed ‘A. Friend.’ ”
“Certainly,” said Sidney Zoom.
“But we can’t accept money signed like that. You can sign a telegram any way you want to, but...”
Sidney Zoom smiled.
“It happens,” he said, “that that is my name — Anson W. Friend, and I always sign it ‘A. Friend.’ ”
“Very well,” said the clerk, and took the money.
Sidney Zoom turned on his heel, strode once more out into the night. Now he was chuckling to himself, scenting adventure.
He drove back to the main office of the telegraph company, parked his car in an advantageous position, settled back against the cushions, and smoked a cigarette.
He had been there approximately twenty minutes, when he heard the click of heels on the pavement, and the young woman walked past his parked automobile and into the office, her steps quick, short and nervous, her face drawn and set.
Sidney Zoom watched her through the glass as she went to the counter, saw the clerk’s reassuring smile, saw him come to her with papers to be signed, and then saw the one hundred dollars which the clerk counted out and passed over to her.
The clerk said something, and the young woman frowned. There were several moments of animated discussion, and Sidney Zoom surmised that she was learning, for the first time, the mysterious name which had been used by the donor of the money.
However, the young woman finally shrugged her shoulders — a shrug which indicated very plainly that she had other matters to concern her — flashed the clerk a smile and a word of thanks, turned and walked rapidly from the telegraph office.
Sidney Zoom had rather expected she would go to some apartment, but she did not. Instead, she walked to a corner where an all-night bus line ran to the Union Station. She waited some ten minutes, caught a bus to the station, presented a check at the parcel checking counter, and received a suitcase and a hat box.
She lugged these to a ticket window and engaged in conversation with the clerk, pausing to look at the clock frowningly.
Sidney Zoom had parked his roadster after he had followed her to the depot. He had entered the foyer of the big depot, and gradually moved up to where he could hear the conversation between the young woman and the agent.
“... not until two o’clock?” she asked.
“That’s right.”
“And this train for the South leaves in fifteen minutes?”
“That’s right.”
“Very well,” she said, “give me a ticket on that.”
“Where to?” he asked.
She hesitated a moment, then pushed fifteen dollars through the barred grille.
“As far as that will take me,” she said.
He looked at her curiously, then consulted a schedule of rates.
“I can sell you a ticket to Midvale for fifteen dollars and twenty-five cents,” he said.
Wordlessly, she opened her purse, and pushed twenty-five cents across the marble slab. The clerk stamped a ticket and handed it to her.
“Pullman?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “How soon can I get on the train?”
“Right away,” he told her. “It leaves in exactly thirteen minutes.”
She picked up the suitcase and hat box and started for the train gates. Sidney Zoom moved up to the window.
“Midvale — single,” he said.
Chapter II
The Flight from Crime
The train gradually gathered momentum as it rumbled through the dark outskirts of the city. The young woman, her face still drawn and tense, her eyes dark with terror that amounted to panic, flashed a surreptitious glance at the tall, mysterious man who sat at ease in the seat across from her. His fingers toyed with a ticket and held it in such a position that the young woman could see the destination printed upon the, ticket was that of Midvale.
Abruptly, she held her eyes upon his.
“You live in Midvale?” she asked.
Sidney Zoom shook his head.
“Can you tell me what sort of a place it is?” she asked.
Sidney Zoom leaned toward her. His hawk-like eyes stared at her steadily; circles of cold ice, in the center of which were twin pinpoints of inky mystery.
“It is a place,” said Sidney Zoom in low, solemn tones, “where one who is hiding from the police could readily be found.”
For a second or two the full import of his words did not dawn upon her consciousness. She sat staring at him with an expression of stupefied terror upon her countenance. Then she gave a quivering gasp.
“Perhaps,” said Sidney Zoom in a kindly tone, “you would care to tell me about it.”
“Tell you about what?” she asked.
“About the reason you’re going to Midvale,” said Sidney Zoom.
“I’m going there,” she said, defiantly, “to visit a sick aunt. I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I don’t care to have any further conversation with you.”
“Evidently,” said Sidney Zoom, “you were overtaken by some emergency which demanded immediate flight. You packed your suitcase, took it down to the depot and checked it. Then you tried to get sufficient money to get out of town. You sent telegrams until you finally secured one hundred dollars. You came down to the station and took the first train leaving town. Now, perhaps, you would care to tell me why. I might help you.”