“If you please,” said Chip, “I do not see that the mere finding of this paper in Fotheringham’s trunk should fasten suspicion on him.  If he was shrewd enough to capture the money, he would certainly not leave such damaging evidence as this paper would be.  It seems to me that it would be a very plausible theory to advance, that the real robbers placed this in his trunk to direct suspicion against him.  In fact, it was the first thing to be seen when the lid was lifted, for I was with Barney when he searched the room.”

Barney said nothing to his companion’s remarks, but nodded his head to show that he acquiesced.

Mr. Pinkerton listened carefully, and merely saying, “we’ll look at this later,” gave a very careful and complete description of Cummings, which he directed Chip and Barney to take to the St. Louis branch of this firm, and from there send it through all the divisions and sub-divisions of this vast detective cob-web.

After issuing further and more orders relating to the case in hand, he put on his hat, and descended to the hotel office, followed by his two subordinates.

After the exciting episode in the express car had been brought to a close by Jim Cummings leaping from the car, the train moved on, and left him alone, the possessor of nearly $100,000.  The game had been a desperate one, and well played, and nervy and cool as he was, the desperado was forced to seat himself on a pile of railroad ties, until he could regain possession of himself, for he trembled in every limb, and shook as with a chill.  He pulled himself together, however, and picking up his valise, with its valuable contents, turned toward the river.

He stepped from tie to tie, feeling his way in the darkness, every sense on the alert, and straining his eyes to catch a glimpse of some landmark.  He had walked nearly a mile when, from behind a pile of brush heaped up near the track, a man stepped forth.  The double click of a revolver was heard, and in an imperative tone, the unknown man called out: 

“Halt!  Put your hands above your head.  I’ve got the drop on you!”

Startled as he was by the sudden appearance of the man, and hardly recovered from his hard fight with the messenger, Cummings was too brave and too daring to yield so tamely.  Dropping his valise, he sprang upon the audacious stranger so suddenly that he was taken completely by surprise.  The sharp report of the revolver rang out upon the quiet night, and the two men, Cummings uppermost, fell upon the grading of the road.  The men were very evenly matched, and the fortunes of war wavered from one to the other.  The hoarse breathing, the muttered curses, and savage blows told that a desperate conflict was taking place.  Clasped in each other’s embrace, the men lay, side by side, neither able to gain the mastery.  Far around the curve the rumbling of an approaching freight train was heard.  Nearer and nearer it came, and still the men fought on.  With a grip of iron Cummings held the stranger’s throat to the rail, and with arms of steel clasped around Cummings, his assailant pressed him to the ground.