foolishness to me; a swollen faced outlander who rules familiar
spirits with a wand, and, between investigations in the realms of
science, writes a girl's name all over the place like a lovesick
school-boy! Is Mercy his spirit-control, do you suppose?"

"Oh, let's get out of here," said Average Jones. "I'm getting dizzy
with it all. The next step," he observed, as they walked slowly up
the street, "is by train. Want to take a short trip to-morrow,
Bert? Or, perhaps, several short trips?"

"Whither away, fair youth?"

"To the place where the fake 'Smith' and the lost Craig have been
doing their little stunts."

"I thought you said Professor Gehren couldn't tell you where Craig
had gone."

"No more he could. So I've got to find out for myself. Here's the
way I figure it out: The two men have been engaged in some
out-of-door work that is extra hazardous. So much we know. Harvey
Craig has, I'm afraid, succumbed to it. Otherwise he'd have sent
some word to Professor Gehren. He may be dead or he may only be
disabled by the dangerous character of the work, whatever it was.
In any case our mysterious foreign friend has probably skipped out
hastily. Now, I propose to find the railroad station they passed
through, coming and going, and interview the ticket agent."

"You've got a fine large contract on your hands to find it."