ng to see what reaction the kidnaping of a train might have."

Blake listened quietly, and without a word turned on his heel and
returned to his chair. The door closed on them again.

Blake glanced at the headline. Then the full significance of Silver
Mask's latest move hit him between the eyes. The headline of the South
Station Star was in letters six inches high:

MONO FLYER MISSING

Entire Train Lost Without Trace

Mono 6, crack flyer of the "Hope to Horn" mono line disappeared
from the face of the earth tonight. On board were Walter
Ferrell, the company's owner, and Dauna, his daughter. At an
emergency meeting of the board of directors, it was admitted
that not the slightest clue to the train's whereabouts has been
discovered.

Soon after midnight, Mono 6 of the west coast's crack Mono Line
left Hope, Alaska. No further reports came after it passed the
first five-hundred-mile zone. Reports of a wreck are
unconfirmed. A complete search of the track failed to bring to
light the slightest hint of the flyer's final resting place.

In the past few hours the company has faced the problem of
handling thousands of tour cancellations. Officials of the line
are attempting vainly to allay the fears of both would-be
passengers and stockholders. Wade Blake, Vice President of the
company had previously ordered an investigation in an attempt
to track to earth the series of strange accidents that have
followed the Hope to Horn mono line for some months, but cannot
be located at present for a statement.

Blake threw the paper on the floor. There was more to the story. Much
more. Here in a few columns he had read the final exit of a great
railroad line and its owner. Unless Walter Ferrell and Mono 6 could
arrive at South Station, unharmed and within a few hours, the world
would refuse to accept further service from the Hope to Horn and
Ferrell's business would be ruined.

The article said that Wade could not be located. Blake hoped that he had
been close when the train failed to arrive at Vancouver. A momentary
frown turned down the corners of his lips. Perhaps Wade wasn't as
helpless as they seemed to think. Blake fervently hoped so.

* * * * *

Since Blake had finished reading the paper, two hours had passed, as
nearly as he could guess. O'Toole came