“Both closed up by this time,” ruminated Bart.  “We can’t deliver to-night.  Anything very urgent among that stuff, Darry?”

“Nothing,” replied his young assistant.

“You can go home, then,” directed Bart.  “Pretty tired, eh?  A big day’s work, this.”

“Say, Bart,” spoke up Darry, as he dallied at the door, “who was the fellow that bought that last package?”

“A friend of mine, Darry,” answered Bart seriously.  “And I am worried about him.  He is the man I told you about who helped me save my father the night of the fire.”

“He acted very queerly.  And Lem Wacker, too,” added Darry thoughtfully.  “Is something new up, Bart?  The way Wacker carried on, he seemed to have some idea in his head.”

“He had the idea he could bulldoze me,” said Bart bluntly, “and found he couldn’t.  What bothers me is, why were both of them so anxious to get this package?”

Bart took it out of his pocket as he spoke, nodded good night to Darry, and sat down on a bench, turning the parcel over and over in his hand.

“A.A.  Adams,” he read from the tag, “a queer name, and no one answering to it here in Pleasantville.  I wonder why Baker was so excited when he heard that name?  I wonder why Lem Wacker bid it up?  Is he aware of the mystery surrounding Baker?  Has this package got something to do with it?  Wacker looked as though he had struck a prosperous streak, and bragged recklessly about the lot of money he could get.  I must find Baker.  He was in no condition, mentally or physically, to wander about at random.”

The package in question, Bart decided, held papers.  It had been given him in trust, and he could not open it without Baker’s permission.  He replaced it in his pocket and went forth.

Bart visited all of Baker’s old familiar haunts in the freight yards, but found no trace of him.  Then he called at the Sharp Corner.  Its proprietor claimed that Lem Wacker had not been there since noon.

Bart spoke to two of the yards night watchmen.  He described Baker, and requested them to speak to him if they ran across him, and to tell him that Bart Stirling was very anxious to see him up at his house.

Affairs at the little express office had settled down to routine when, one morning, Darry Haven dropped into the place.

He found Bart engrossed in reading a letter very carefully.  Its envelope lay on the desk.  Glancing at it casually, Darry saw that it was from express headquarters.

“Anything wrong?” he inquired, as Bart folded up the letter and placed it in his pocket.

“Not with me, anyway,” replied Bart with a smile.  “There is something wrong at Cardysville, a hundred miles or so down the main line,” he went on.

“And how does that interest you, Bart?”

“Why, it seems I have got to go down there on some business for the Company.”

“To-day?”

“The sooner the better, that letter says.  It is from the inspector.  It is quite flattering to me, for he starts out with complimenting the excellent business system this office has always sustained.”