"Do you know what became of the other two men?" "I do not. But what's up? Is there anything wrong?" questioned the hotel proprietor, with a look of concern on his face. "I am afraid there is," answered Joe, and told his tale from beginning to end. "That's an odd sort of a yarn, Joe. It's queer you didn't recognize the men before. "It is queer, sir, but I can't help that. It flashed over me just as I looked into the window of the old lodge." "You haven't made any mistake?" "No, sir." "Humph!" Andrew Mallison mused for a moment. "I don't really see what I can do in the matter. We can't prove that those men are wrongdoers, can we?" "Not unless they tried some game on this Mr. Maurice Vane." "They may have sold him some worthless mining shares. That sort of a trick is rather old." "I think we ought to make a search for this David Ball, or Malone, or whatever his name is." "I'm willing to do that." After questioning half a dozen people they learned that the pretended sick man had driven off in the direction of a village called Hopedale. "What made him go there, do you think?" questioned Joe. "I don't know, excepting that he thought of getting a train on the other line." A horse and buggy were procured, and in this Mr. Mallison and our hero drove over to Hopedale. They were still on the outskirts of the village when they heard a locomotive whistle. "There's the afternoon train now!" cried Joe. "Perhaps it's the one he wants to catch." The horse was touched up and the buggy drove up to the railroad platform at breakneck speed. But the train was gone and all they could see of it was the last car as it swung around one of the mountain bends.