"He must have got up early," thought Fred. "I wonder if he has gone for good."

 

This seemed likely, for the stranger's valise had disappeared also.

 

"I wonder he didn't wake me up and bid me good-by," thought the train boy.

 

Then a momentary suspicion led him to search for the hundred dollars in gold which he had carefully concealed in his inside vest pocket. If that were taken, he would be in a quandary, for there would be little chance of his being able to make up the loss to his friend, the Western miner.

 

He found, to his relief, that the gold had not been touched, and he reproached himself for the injustice he had in his thoughts, done his late room-mate.

 

"Well," soliloquized Fred, as he lazily got out of bed and drew on his clothes, "I am not sorry to have the room alone. If I could have a friend from home with me I should like it, but I don't care for the company of a stranger."

 

Fred reflected that he had all the day to himself. He could hear the roar of the famous cataract, which he had not yet seen on account of his late arrival the night before, and he determined to go there immediately after breakfast, or even before breakfast if he found that it was quite near. He went to the window and looked out, but it was not in sight.

 

"I may as well put on a clean shirt," thought Fred, and he went to the table to open the bundle which he had brought from Jersey City. He had just unfastened the string when a quick, imperative knock was heard at the door of his room.

 

"Come in!" said Fred, with some surprise.

 

He turned his face to the door, and his wonder increased as it opened and he saw the clerk and a stranger standing on the threshold. They entered the room and closed the door behind them.

 

"What is the matter?" asked the train boy. "Has anything happened?"

 

"When did your room-mate leave?" asked the detective, not answering his question.

 

"I don't know; I only just woke up."

 

"Did you rest well?"

 

"That's a very queer question to ask me," thought Fred. "Yes," he answered, "I rested very well."

 

The detective and the clerk exchanged glances. This statement did not accord with what Fred's room-mate had said down-stairs.

 

"The bed was very comfortable," added Fred by way of compliment to the house.

 

"I am glad you found it so," said the detective dryly.

 

"Did you come upstairs to ask how I rested?' asked Fred, with a smile.

 

"You are sharp, my young friend," said the detective, "and I think I may say wonderfully cool under the circumstances."

 

"Under what circumstances?" asked Fred, his attention drawn to the last part of the detective's speech.

 

"There was a burglary committed yesterday afternoon in Elmira," said the detective, fastening his eyes keenly on the face of the train boy.

 

"Was there?" asked Fred, not seeing in what way this information was likely to affect him. "I thought most burglaries were committed in the night."

 

"They are, generally, but this was an exception. There was no one in the house except old Mr. Carver, who is quite hard of hearing. The burglary probably took place about five o'clock, and the burglar is supposed to have taken the 5:51 train from Elmira."

 

"Why, that is the train I was on," said Fred in surprise.

 

"By a curious coincidence," said the detective with a queer smile, "it was by your train that the burglar probably traveled."

 

His tone was so significant that Fred asked quickly, "What do you mean?"

 

"I mean, my young friend," said the detective, "that you are suspected to know something of this affair."

 

"If you are a detective," retorted Fred, "I don think much of your sharpness. I have never been in Elmira in my life."

 

"Probably not," said Ferguson, the detective, with a provoking smile.

 

"I passed through there yesterday on my way from New York. With that exceptio............