"If Chief Downs can get us on the Limited," he said, "and if we catch
the _City of Boston_, I think perhaps we might have a chance of making
Mr. Jocelyn Thew eat his words."

The Chief smiled. The taxicab had turned in through the entrance gates
of the great station.

"I have heard men as well-known in their profession as you, Hobson,
and you too, Mr. Crawshay, speak like that about Jocelyn Thew, but
when the game was played out they seem to have lost the odd trick.
Either the fellow isn't a criminal at all but loves to haunt shady
places and pose as one, or he is just the cleverest of all the crooks
who ever worked the States. Some of my best men have thought that they
had a case against him and have come to grief."

"They've never caught him with the goods, because they've never been
the right way about it," Hobson declared confidently.

"And you think you are going to break his record?" Downs asked, with a
doubtful smile. "If you find him on the _City of Boston_, you know,
the stuff you're after won't be in his pocketbook or in the lining of
his steamer trunk."

The three men were hurrying out to the platform now, where the great
train, a blaze of light and luxury, was standing upon the track.
Captain Downs made his way to where the Pullman conductor was standing
and engaged him in a brief but earnest conversation. A car porter was
summoned, and in a few moments Crawshay and Hobson found themselves
standing on the steps of one of the cars. They leaned over to make
their adieux to Chief Downs. Crawshay added a few words to