be right pleased to know that it is a train hold-up." He waved
his hand toward the door, and at the word, as if waiting for his
cue, a masked man appeared at the end of the passage with a
revolver in each hand.



CHAPTER 2. TAXATION WITHOUT REPRESENTATION

"Hands up!"

There was a ring of crisp menace in the sinister voice that was a
spur to obedience. The unanimous show of hands voted "Aye" with a
hasty precision that no amount of drill could have compassed.

It was a situation that might have made for laughter had there
been spectators to appreciate. But of whatever amusement was to
be had one of the victims seemed to hold a monopoly. Collins, his
arm around the English children by way of comfort, offered a
sardonic smile at the consternation his announcement and its
fulfillment had created, but none of his fellow passengers were
in the humor to respond.

The shock of an earthquake could not have blanched ruddy faces
more surely. The Chicago drummer, fat and florid, had disappeared
completely behind a buttress of the company's upholstery.

"God bless my soul!" gasped the Pekin-Bostonian, dropping his
eyeglass and his accent at the same moment. The dismay in his
face found a reflection all over the car. Miss Wainwright's hand