Between the hours of seven and nine that night many things were happening. Helen had gone down to see Strong. A man, who may have been a Dane or a German, boarded Ted’s train at Milwaukee, and O’Reilly was preparing to meet that same train, as was John Strong. At home Mrs. Marsh was leaving to meet the train. We shall follow the man who boarded the train. He entered one of the Pullmans, but no boy seemed to be there; another one, and there were two boys, but both seemed to be with parents.

But he was successful in the third car. It was Ted he saw and as he sat down very near him he pulled out a Danish newspaper and started to read.

Pretty soon he looked up. He seemed a very pleasant man. He spoke to a man in the seat in front of him, then he turned to Ted. “Have you come from far?” he asked innocently.

“Yes, sir,” answered Ted, “from Wayland.”

“So,” observed the man. “Do you live in Chicago or in Wayland?” He added, “I live in Milwaukee, but I go twice, sometimes three times a month to Chicago. My daughter lives there.”

“In Chicago,” answered Ted. Truth to tell, he was very glad to talk, the trip had been a long one.

“Where do you live, what part?” asked his new acquaintance.

“Over north, 11416 Wells street.” Ted saw no reason why he should not tell this harmless stranger where he lived. Although he had no suspicion of him, he had made up his mind that such questions he would answer, no matter who asked them.

For he realized that the one way to arouse curiosity was to appear secretive.

“My daughter lives up that way, too,” the man said. He seemed quite interested in the idea of making conversation.

“I will leave you for a minute.” The train was slowing up for Racine. His telegram was all ready except for the address. He rushed into the ticket office, added the address and had it sent collect, and had plenty of time to board the train.

“I wonder why,” thought Ted, “he should have to run into that station.” Ted’s suspicions were somewhat aroused. He decided to appear as if he had not taken note of the actions of his acquaintance.

Schmidt had underestimated the ability of the boy. He was so young, he thought, there was no necessity for special care.

Then, too, he was so very affable, so very simple. To his questions as to who would meet him Ted answered that he thought no one would, the time he was coming was a little uncertain, he added.

“No one is to meet me, either. Perhaps we can both go up home together, eh?”

“Sure,” replied the boy, “that would be fine.”

Ted fancied by now that the man was a German. But, then, he had that Danish newspaper. Maybe he was not.

“What do you do at your place Wayland, I think you said?”

“I go to the Academy there. I belong to the Scouts it is military and academic.” The boy was quite young and quite simple, Schmidt decided.

“Ah, that military business is bad, very bad. There will never be war anymore.”

Ted wondered if the man really believed it. He could not make up his mind. So they talked. The man grew less and less interested. He had made up his mind that the boy was really going to see his mother. Of course, that would be proven when they found out how much the mother knew about it and if she would meet the boy. Probably all this time had been wasted, but Schmidt had no regrets. After all, eternal vigilance was the watchword.

An hour later the train came into the station.

Ted, who had been quite tired, no longer felt any weariness. Here was
Chicago, here was home.

As he stepped away from the train, his mother and sister ran forward. Two men watched him from close by one motioned to the other. O’Reilly went forward.

“My boy, are you looking for Mr. Strong?”

Helen interrupted: “Looking for Mr. Who? Why, of course he’s not he’s my brother I guess you are mistaken. Come, Ted, we are going home first.”

Ted did not question his sister; he knew there was method in her outburst. He added:

“Sorry, sir.”

“I’m so glad you came, Ted. How I hoped you would!” his mother said.

O’Reilly turned doubtfully, as the other man beckoned him away.

“Time lost,” said Schmidt. “Let them go. No harm done. I pumped the boy on the way; he had no secret, apparently. He is but a child.”

“I was scared by that girl,” replied O’Reilly musingly. “My, she’s a Tartar. All right, then, I’m tired and I’m going home. Good-night.”

“Good-night, my friend see you tomorrow.” Schmidt watched him go.

“Say, sis, I did have to meet a Mr. Strong.” Ted spoke in a low voice.

“I know it, Ted, but that man was not he. When we get away somewhere I’ll tell you something about it.”

“Let’s go home. I’m crazy to be back here and it certainly feels fine.”