private car—Mrs. Coogan was getting the best of it, whatever it meant.
The three disappeared inside, but presently Regan and Carleton came out again, and the super dropped to the station platform. He held out his hand to the master mechanic as Frank Knowles, the conductor, lifted his finger to Burke in the cab.
"Good-by, Tommy; and good luck," he called, as the train began to move out. "Don't hurry, take all the time you need."
"All right," Regan shouted back. "Good-by."
Carleton stood for a moment watching the tail lights grow dimmer until, finally, they shot suddenly out of sight with the curve of the track, then he turned to walk back along the platform—and stopped.
Crouched back against the wall of the freight house, deep in the shadows, was Marley.
"Here you, Marley," Carleton called.
Marley, evidently believing himself to have been unobserved, started violently, and then came slowly forward.
"What are you hiding there for?" demanded the super.
"I wanted to see Mrs. Coogan off," Marley answered a little defiantly.
The tone of the other's voice did not please Carleton.
"You've a queer way of doing it then," he snapped shortly
Marley was twisting his hands, staring down the track.
