ses to notice
that the fifteen thousand dollars was not delivered to me until six
minutes after twelve, too late to make the tender legal, which makes the
contract null and void."

Mr. Martin, with a triumphant sweep of his hand, pointed to a big clock
at the end of the long hall.

"I beg your pardon," said Bart, holding up his watch, "but I keep
official time, and it is exactly thirty seconds to midnight. Listen!"

And thirty seconds later, from the Pleasantville court house tower, the
town bell rang out twelve musical strokes.

CHAPTER XXIX

BROUGHT TO TIME

"I'll go!" said Colonel Jeptha Harrington, magnate of Pleasantville.

"All right," said Bart Stirling, express company agent.

It was three o'clock in the morning, and the scene was the little
express office where so many unusual and exciting happenings had
transpired within twenty-four hours.

The colonel's announcement was given in the tone of a man facing a hard
proposition and forced to accept it--or something worse.

Bart's reply was calm and off-handed. During a two hours' siege with the
military man he had never lost his temper or his wits, and had come off
the victor.

When Bart had concluded his very creditable piece of business with Mr.
Martin of the pickle factory, he had sent Darry and Bob Haven back to
bed, and had forthwith returned to the express office.

Colonel Harrington, scared-looking and sullen, was still there. He
seemed to have met his match in the young express agent, and dared not
defy him.

Bart found McCarthy, the night watchman, on guard outside, who told him
that they had got Lem Wacker clear of the bumpers, had carried him into
the express office, made up a rude litter, and had sent for a surgeon.

The latter had just concluded his labors as Bart entered. Lem Wacker lay
with his foot bandaged up, conscious, and in no intense pain, for the
surgeon had given him some deadening medicine.

"He belongs at the hospital," the surgeon advised Bart. "That foot will
have to come off."

"As bad as that!" murmured Bart.

"Yes. I will telephone for the ambulance when I leave here."

"Very well," acquiesced Bart. "Can I speak with the patient?"

"If he will speak with you. He's an ugly, ungrateful mortal!"

Bart went over to the side of the prostrate man.

"Mr. Wacker," he said, "I do not wish to trouble you in your present
condition, but something has got to be understood before you leave this
place. You go to th