express was pulling in. Idly, they watched the few passengers who emerged from the coaches, envied the engineer who was lolling majestically in the cab, watched the conductor in his smart uniform, and looked at the people who were boarding the train.
Suddenly Frank nudged his brother.
"Isn't that Markel?" he asked.
Joe followed his glance. Near the steps of one of the Pullman coaches was a familiar figure, with cap pulled down over his eyes. There was no mistaking the fellow; he was indeed Markel, one of the associates of Uncle Dock at the old mill.
What particularly attracted the boys' attention, however, was the fact that Markel carried a bulky paper package under his arm.
He had not seen them, but there was something so furtive in his manner that the Hardy boys made themselves as inconspicuous as possible in the shadow of one of the pillars near by.
Markel lounged about near the coach, now and then glancing up anxiously, as though expecting some one.
Within a few minutes, just as the conductor shouted, "All aboard!" a tall, thin-faced man with a neat black mustache, emerged from the coach. He glanced hastily down at Markel, nodded swiftly, said something in a low tone,
