"I will. It don't seem natural to dub a boy Mr. Now, Rodney, follow me."

The two passengers set out on the road that led to the village. They
could see the latter easily, for it was not more than a mile away.

"He will be surprised to think we have 'struck his trail' so quick,"
said the agent.

"Where shall we go first?"

"To the hotel if there is one."

"The village seems small."

"Yes, there are only a few hundred inhabitant probably. It is not a
place where a traveler would be likely to interrupt his journey unless
he had a special object in doing so, like our dishonest friend. However,
I think we shall be able to balk his little game."

Ten minutes' walk brought them to the village. Looking about they saw a
small hotel just across the way from a neat white chapel.

"Follow me," said the agent.

They went into the public room in which there was a small office.

The book of arrivals was open, and Adin Woods went forward and examined
it. Silently he pointed to a name evidently just written, for the ink
was scarcely dry. This was the name: Louis Wheeler, Philadelphia.