“The Bayport and Coast! Why, that’s the railway that Red Jackley used to work for. Don’t you remember Dad telling us that? His first crime was stealing freight from the road.”
“So he did! I’d forgotten all about it.”
The boys looked down at the tracks below the embankment with renewed interest, by virtue of the railway’s association with the notorious criminal. Mention of Jackley’s name revived recollections of the Tower Mansion case, and when the boys finally decided to stop in the shade of a little grove of trees beside the road for lunch, they reviewed every incident of the mysterious affair.
“It would have been better for everyone if Jackley had stayed with the railway,” Frank observed, as he bit into a thick roastbeef sandwich.
“He sure caused a lot of trouble before he died.”
“And he has caused even more since, by the looks of things. The Robinsons will remember his name for a long time to come.”
“I wonder if Mr. Robinson really was in league with him, Frank?”
“I don’t think so. And I don’t believe Mr. Robinson ever found that treasure after the robbery, either. There is some explanation to this whole affair that none has been able to fathom.”
“If I remember rightly, it was in this part of the country that Jackley worked.”
“That’s what Dad told us. He said it was along the right of way near the State road. Jackley was a section hand or signalman, or something.”
Both boys gazed down the two lines of railway tracks that gleamed in the sun. Far into the distance, the glittering bands of steel extended, vanishing into a common perspective.