"What shall we do if Ned fails to get here?" he said suddenly after
peering down the long platform toward the busy end of the station.

"Oh, we didn't go into this to fail," cheerily responded the youth
by his side. "If we 'fall down' it won't be on a simple thing like
this. He'll be here. It won't take us but three minutes to
transfer the stuff when it gets here. Never fear. I'll just take
another look in the car to make sure."

As he did so the colored boy exclaimed:

"It's all right. Here's de screws as he done tole us to git and
here's de screw-driver outen de box as he done writ us to have ready
and dar's de door all ready fur to fly open."

To prove it the lad gave the wide door in the side of the car a
shove, and as it ran back on its track a portion of the inside of
the car was exposed. It was a peculiar car and worth description,
for in it, next to the big engine and ahead of all the other cars of
the almost endless train, Ned Napier, his friend Alan Hope, and
their servant, Elmer Grissom, were to be the sole passengers on a
most mysterious and, as it proved, most eventful journey. In
railroad parlance the car was what is known as a "club" car. Half
of the interior was bare and unfinished, like the compartment in
which, on special and limited trains, baggage is carried. This part
of the car, now exposed to view, was dimly lighted with one
incandescent bulb. In the half-light it could be seen that the
space was almost wholly filled with tanks, boxes, casks, crates and
bundles, all systematically braced to prevent jarring or smashing.