Three weeks had passed since Bruce Duncan's visit to his uncle's lawyer. Adventures had apparently ended, so far as Duncan was concerned. Unless new factors developed, episodes of the past would pass into oblivion.
New factors, however, were already entering the game. Oddly, strange incidents were beginning many miles from New York — incidents that chance, alone, was guiding. Budding events had begun aboard a train on the Pennsylvania Railroad, during its day trip east from Pittsburgh.
The Eastern Limited was swinging along the curving roadbed as it followed its course on the mountainside above the river. The scene from the window of the sleeping car was one of rugged grandeur, but it held no interest for a passenger named Harry Vincent.
He was the only person seated in the car; the other passengers — of whom there were very few — had gone either to the diner or to the observation car.
For three hours during that afternoon, Harry had been watching a closed door. It was the door of the drawing room at the end of the car, and his interest in what might be behind that door had kept him in his seat.
At three o'clock, Harry had first discovered that there was a passenger in the drawing-room. The conductor had gone to the door of the compartment and had knocked upon it. The door had been opened slightly; the conductor had not entered. He had merely checked a ticket through the partly opened door and had gone on his way.
Harry had observed a dim face in the drawing-room. Then the door had closed. From then on, he had been puzzling over the matter.
The train was not so fast as some of the other limiteds that ran from Chicago to New York. Why should a single passenger — and Harry held a hunch that there was but one person in the drawing-room — have chosen a compartment all alone, on a car nearly empty?
With nothing to do but while away the time during the long day trip, Harry had pondered on this matter.
To him it spelled mystery. There was only one solution. The person in the drawing-room must have chosen this train and taken the available compartment because it would mean seclusion from observation.
Twice, between three and six o'clock, the door had opened slightly as though some one within were studying the car to see who was there. There had been several persons in the car both times.
* * *
The train stopped at Altoona, and Harry still sat alone in the car. He realized that they had passed the famous Horseshoe Curve without the sight even attracting his attention.
Now they were on their way again, and it was growing dark. The closed door still intrigued Harry Vincent, and he watched it more intently than before. He detected a motion. He buried his head suddenly behind his newspaper.
Peering upward over the top of the paper, he saw the door open wide. A man stepped out, turning quickly so that his back was toward Harry, and the door closed. Then the fellow disappeared along the passage that led to the door of the car. Harry dropped his paper and followed. He reached the next car, but no one was in sight when he came to the aisle. He walked through rapidly and entered the second car. By this time he should have gained on the other man. But there was no one in the aisle.
He was puzzled for the moment. Then he retraced his footsteps. It was obvious that the other man had not gone through the train.
When he reached his own car, Harry pushed back the curtain of the smoking compartment and entered.
A man was seated by the window, staring into the outside darkness.
The stranger had assumed a position that confirmed Harry's suspicions. The man had his forehead pressed against the window, with both elbows on the sill, and his hands against his face.
As Harry sat down beside the man and lighted a cigar, the stranger relaxed himself. He did not turn in Harry's direction. But as Harry sat drowsily looking at the floor, he was sure that the other man was studying him in the mirror across the smoking compartment.
Harry spoke without looking at the other man.
"It's a long trip."
"Yeah," confirmed the other.
This was encouraging to Harry. Evidently the secretive passenger had satisfied himself that Harry was simply an ordinary traveler.
"Do you make it often?" questioned Harry in a casual way.
"Once in a while," came the reply.
* * *
Harry turned his head slightly toward his companion. Now he saw the man's face. It was a sallow, smooth-shaven face. The man's eyes were dark and shifty. He did not seem intent upon hiding has features now, but Harry did not watch him long.
Instead, he looked straight ahead and made occasional remarks that might enable him to involve the other man in conversation. He received responses that were brief and few.
The porter entered the smoking compartment, and the stranger took that opportunity to leave. When Harry went back into the car, he saw that the drawing-room door was closed and he felt sure that the mysterious passenger had returned to his seclusion.
The porter came through the car, and Vincent called to him.
"What's the next stop, porter?"
"Harrisburg, sah."
"Many people getting off there?"
"No, sah. None off this car. All going through to New York, sah."
Harry went to the diner and enjoyed the meal which he had so long delayed. The train was pulling into Harrisburg when he came back to his car.
In the passageway he encountered a man who had a small valise. He recognized him instantly as the passenger of the drawing-room.
The stranger moved aside and turned his head away as he allowed him to pass. The train was slowing as Harry reached his seat. Without hesitation the young man picked up his suitcase and hurried through to the car ahead — directly opposite the exit by which the stranger was leaving.