While he was speaking, I ticked off the news of our being held up, and asked the agent if there had been any men about Sanders, or if he had seen any one board the train there.  His answer was positive that no one could have done so, and that settled it as to Sanders.  I asked the same questions of Allantown and Wingate, which were the only places we had stopped at after leaving Coolidge, getting the same answer.  That eight men could have remained concealed on any of the platforms from that point was impossible, and I began to suspect magic.  Then I called Coolidge, and told of the holding up, after which I telegraphed the agent at Navajo Springs to notify the commander at Fort Defiance, for I suspected the road agents would make for the Navajo reservation.  Finally I called Flagstaff as I had Coolidge, directed that the authorities be notified of the facts, and ordered an extra to bring out the sheriff and posse.

“I don’t think,” said Miss Cullen, “that I am a bit more curious than most people, but it has nearly made me frantic to have you tick away on that little machine and hear it tick back, and not understand a word.”

After that I had to tell her what I had said and learned.

“How clever of you to think of counting the tickets and finding out where people got on and off!  I never should have thought of either,” she said.

“It hasn’t helped me much,” I laughed, rather grimly, “except to eliminate every possible clue.”

“They probably did steal on at one of the stops,” suggested a passenger.

I shook my head.  “There isn’t a stick of timber nor a place of concealment on these alkali plains,” I replied, “and it was bright moonlight till an hour ago.  It would be hard enough for one man to get within a mile of the station without being seen, and it would be impossible for seven or eight.”

“How do you know the number?” asked a passenger.

“I don’t,” I said.  “That’s the number the crew think there were; but I myself don’t believe it.”

“Why don’t you believe the men?” asked Miss Cullen.

“First, because there is always a tendency to magnify, and next, because the road agents ran away so quickly.”

“I counted at least seven,” asserted Lord Ralles.

“Well, Lord Ralles,” I said, “I don’t want to dispute your eyesight, but if they had been that strong they would never have bolted, and if you want to lay a bottle of wine, I’ll wager that when I catch those chaps we’ll find there weren’t more than three or four of them.”

“Done!” he snapped.

Leaving the group, I went forward to get the report of the mail agent.  He had put things to right, and told me that, though the mail had been pretty badly mixed up, only one pouch at worst had been rifled.  This—­the one for registered mail—­had been cut open, but, as if to increase the mystery, the letters had been scattered, unopened, about the car, only three out of the whole being missing, and those very probably had fallen into the pigeon-holes and would be found on a more careful search.