e girls were constantly on the
alert for some evidence of his interest in them and their movements. And
they were rewarded to this extent: In the course of the journey,
Langford paid the conductor the extra mileage for parlor car privileges,
and as he transferred from the coach, not one of the Flamingoites failed
to observe the fact that in personal appearance he answered strikingly
the description of the man referred to in the telegram received by Miss
Ladd.

The squint-eyed man of mystery, in the coolest and most nonchalant
manner, took a seat a short distance in front of the bevy of knitting
Camp Fire Girls, unfolded a newspaper and appeared to bury himself in
its contents, oblivious to all else about him.

Half an hour later he arose and left the car, passing out toward the
rear end of the train. Another half hour elapsed and he did not
reappear. Then Katherine Crane and Hazel Edwards put away their knitting
and announced that they were going back into the observation car and
look over the magazines. They did not communicate to each other their
real purpose in making this move, but neither had any doubt as to what
was going on in the mind of the other. Marie Crismore looked at them
with a little squint of intelligence and said as she arose from her
chair:

"I think I'll go, too, for a change."

But this is what she interpolated to herself:

"They're going back there to spy, and I think I'll go and spy, too."

They found Langford in the observation car, apparently asleep in a
chair. Katherine, who entered first, declared afterwards that she was
positive she saw him close his eyes like a flash and lapse into an
appearance of drowsiness, but if she was not in error, his subsequent
manner was a very clever simulation of midday slumber. Three or four
times in the course of the next hour he shifted his position and half
opened his eyes, but drooped back quickly into the most comfortable
appearance of somnolent lassitude.

The three girls were certain that all this was pure "make-believe," but
they did not communicate their conviction to each other by look or
suggestion of any kind. They played their part very well, and it is
quite possible that Langford, peeking through his eyewinkers, was
considerably puzzled by their manner. He had no reason to believe that
he was known to them by name or reputation, much less by personal
appearance.

It was in fact a game of spy on both sides during most of the journey,
with