im, you might be able to go to the Basswood house and fool
the folks there."

"I don't quite understand?"

"I mean this way: We could go to Crumville and you could watch your
chance, and when the coast was clear you could git a rig and drive
over to the Basswood house and go in quite excited like and tell 'em
that this Mr. Wadsworth was a-want-in' to see them miniatures right
away,--that a very celebrated art critic had called on him, but
couldn't stay long. Wanted to ketch a train and all that. You could
tell 'em that Mr. Wadsworth had sent you to git the miniatures, and
that he had said that he would return 'em jest as soon as the critic
had looked 'em over. Do you ketch the idee?" and Tim Crapsey looked
narrowly at his companion.

"It might work, although I'd be running a big risk," said Ward Porton,
slowly. Yet his eyes gleamed in satisfaction over the thought. "But
you forgot one thing, Tim: We are snowbound here, and we can't get
away any quicker than they can."

"That's where you're mistaken, Port--I mean Mr. Jones," Crapsey
checked himself hastily. "I heard some folks downstairs talkin' about
going over to Pepsico to ketch the one o'clock train. That goes
through Crumville, and if we could ketch it we'd be in that town long
before mornin'. We could fix up some story about the others bein' left
behind here, and Dave Porter comin' home alone. They can't send any
telephone message, for the wires are down, and I don't know of any
telegraph office here where they could send a message that way."

"If we were going to try it we'd have to hustle," announced Ward
Porton. "And it's a fierce risk, let me tell you that,--first, trying
to get to the railroad station, and then trying to bluff Mr. and Mrs.
Basswood into thinking I am Dave Porter. You must remember that since
I got those things in Porter's name at those stores, the whole crowd
are on their guard."

"Well, you can't gain anything in this world without takin' chances,"
retorted Tim Crapsey. "If I looked like that feller I'd take the
chance in a minute. Why, jest see what we could make out of it! If you
can git your hands on those miniatures, I'll take care of the rest of
it and we can split fifty-fifty on what we git out of the deal."

Ward Porton mused for a moment while Tim Crapsey eyed him closely.
Then the former moving-picture actor leaped softly to his feet.

"I'll do it, Tim!" he cried in a low voice. "Come ahead--let us get
out of this hotel jus