"The head ticket counter," said he. "At once." Then he laid down the
tube and continued to his visitors. "He is the man who can supply that
sort of information instantly."
The ticket counter was a heavy-set young man, in spectacles and with
his hair much rumpled. He peered curiously at the strangers.
"Does any conductor on our lines use a punch which cuts out a
keystone?" inquired the General Passenger Agent.
"Yes, Purvis," replied the heavy young man. "Runs the Hammondsville
local."
"I am obliged to you both," said Ashton-Kirk. "This little hint may be
immensely valuable to me. And now," to the agent, "if I could have a
moment with Conductor Purvis, I would be more grateful to you than
ever."
"His train is out in the shed now," said the ticket counter, looking
at his watch. "Leaves in eight minutes."
"I'm sorry that I can't have him up here for you," said the passenger
agent. "Just now that is impossible. But," inquiringly, "couldn't you
speak to him down on the platform?"
"Of course," replied Ashton-Kirk.
He and Pendleton arose; the little man with the large white whiskers
was thanked once more, as was the heavy young man with the rumpled
hair.
"You'll find the Hammondsville train at Gate E," the latter informed
them.
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