An old touring car was standing at the side of a dirt road. Its lights were extinguished, and the vehicle was totally obscured in the darkness. There were two men in the car. The one at the wheel was listening intently. The other, who was beside him, was motionless as though asleep.
A motor throbbed in the distance, and as the sound came closer, the man at the wheel of the touring car opened the door and stepped to the ground. He looked back along the road toward the red light of a railroad crossing. A pair of headlights appeared beyond, and a moving automobile came rapidly in view.
The second car came alongside the first and stopped in the center of the road. The motor was turned off.
The man beside the touring car was in the glare of the headlights. He stepped to the car which had just arrived and opened the door. It was a closed job.
A laugh came from within the automobile. A voice followed.
"How do you like my new sedan, Wally?"
"Pretty nice," said the man on the ground, in an admiring tone. "Where did you get it?"
"Pinched it," was the reply. "How long have you been here?"
"About ten minutes, Steve. Boy, you sure made good time."
"I work fast, Wally."
"What are you going to do now, Steve?"
The man at the wheel of the sedan consulted his watch by the dashlight.
"I'm going to wait about five minutes," he said. "In that short time I'm going to go over this little lesson that you've been learning. I want you to know all the details of the Steve Cronin system for disposing of smart guys — like that fellow you have in the car. Did he wake up at all?"
"Started to, Steve. I tapped him easy, like you said."
"That's good. If he's half awake, it's all the better for us."
"What's the game, Steve?"
"Don't be impatient, Wally. Let's go over details. Do you know what I did when I went downstairs in the hotel?"
"You picked up a road map for one thing. I know that because you showed me how to get out here. You told me to take my time. I'm glad you let me come easy, because this road is a rough one, all right. I nearly busted a spring. I'll bet there's not a car a week comes along here."
"That's all the better. Well, I'll tell you something else I did while I was downstairs. I picked up a few timetables, and it took me just about three minutes to find out what I wanted to know."
"What was that?"
"The times of passenger trains on some of the branch lines in and out of Harrisburg. This branch back here for instance."
"Did you get the dope you wanted?"
"I did, Wally," he said. "I'll come to that later. After you started away, I walked down the street by the hotel. We did a neat job getting this fellow Vincent into your car. He looked just like a regular drunk.
"When I'd been out on the street before I came up to find you in the room, I saw this sedan, and it looked like an easy one to pinch. These babies were all I needed" — he clinked a bunch of keys in his pocket — "so I gave you time to get started and then I followed along in this nice new automobile. I picked up a few articles I needed while I was on my way here and now I'm ready for business."
Cronin stepped from the sedan and walked over to the touring car. He pulled a small flashlight from his pocket and studied the face of Harry Vincent.
"He'll be out for pretty near an hour anyway," Cronin observed. "So we don't have to worry about that. But we'll plant a few things to make it look good."
He pulled three bottles from his pocket. Two were empty; the odd one was about one-third filled.
"Have a drink, Wally," said Cronin, passing the last bottle to his companion. "Leave some, though. I brought that along with me from Cleveland."
Wally gulped at the bottle, and Cronin followed suit. Then he poured tiny quantities of the liquor into the empty bottles and shook them around. He put the cork back into the bottle that still contained a little liquid. This he thrust in Harry's pocket. He tossed the empty bottles in the back of the touring car.
"You went through this fellow's pockets, didn't you?" he asked.
"Sure thing," replied Wally.
"What did you take?"
"Only his watch and his money — about forty dollars. Nothing else there that I wanted."
"Give me back about seven dollars."
Steve Cronin put the money in Vincent's wallet. There was a slight jingle from the man's vest.
"What's that?" asked Cronin.
"Just change," answered Wally. "I forgot to take that."
"Leave it there. That makes it still better."
Steve Cronin climbed into the touring car and threw the automobile into reverse.
"Stand on the running board," he said to Wally.
He backed the car along the rough road and up the incline to the center of the railroad crossing. He stopped it there. He turned off the ignition and put the car into high gear. Then he turned the ignition key on again.
Alighting from the automobile, Cronin walked to the opposite side. He opened the door and pushed Harry's body toward the left. Together he and Wally completed the arrangements. Harry Vincent lay slumped over the wheel.
Cronin surveyed his work.
"Just one thing I forgot," he remarked.
He took the bottle from Harry's pocket. He tilted back the head of the unconscious man and poured about half of the remaining contents down his throat. Some of the liquor spilled on Harry's coat. Steve Cronin chuckled.
"Details, Wally," he said. "Details always count. This makes it perfect. Drunk at the wheel. Stalled on the crossing. Empty bottles that smell of liquor."
He walked down the road, followed by Wally, in the glare of the headlights of the stranded car. Cronin had flashed the lights on when he had backed the car. He turned and looked along the road as he consulted his watch.
"In about seven minutes," he said, "this will be finished. That crossing was just made to suit me. Notice how it curves? The engineer won't know a thing about it until he is right on top of the car."
The whole idea now dawned on Wally.
"So that's why you looked up the time-tables!" he exclaimed. "Is it a fast train, Steve?"
"Fast enough to suit me. There's a station about a mile down the line, as near as I can figure it from the map. But it isn't even a flag stop for this train. It will come through here mighty fast."
As if in answer to Cronin's prediction, the men heard the distant whistle of a locomotive — a long, plaintive whistle that indicated a train moving at rapid speed.
"Climb aboard, Wally," exclaimed Steve Cronin as he jumped to the wheel of the sedan. "We're going straight ahead in a hurry. The rest will take care of itself."
The tail light of the sedan disappeared around a bend. All was silent at the crossing. There was another whistle of the locomotive through the night, but the unconscious man at the wheel of the touring car could not hear it.
Steve Cronin had planned well. The fulfillment of his scheme had become a matter of minutes only. A mighty juggernaut of iron was hurtling along the steel rails, and in its certain path stood the waiting automobile.