A short time later a woman in a motor car stole Maggie from the convent. This time there was no one to follow them.
Yesterday in Airdale a house was raided by government officers. Rosie and Maggie were found there. Their mother, who is known now as Mrs. Pearl Perkins, was arrested. She was charged with transporting Rosie from Seattle in violation of the Mann Act. She will be arraigned before the United States commissioner in Springfield today.
Rosie has gone far on the path her mother led her. Maggie was rescued from the same life in the nick of time.
Michael, in his cell, can only wonder what has become of them.
Every evening at 5:33 a fast train whizzes through the mining town of Denville, Ill., favoring the little, box-like station with a derisive flirt of its tail car as it takes a curve. Every evening at 5:30, except when infrequent duties interfere, it is the custom of the village constable of Denville to saunter up to the “deepo” and solemnly watch the flyer pass. Once, they say, a pretty girl waved to him from a Pullman window.
George Brown, station agent at Denville, knows the constable’s time as well as that of the train. When he thought it was getting pretty near the hour for the appearance of constable and flyer yesterday afternoon, he looked at his watch. It was 5:20 o’clock.
The station agent was particularly anxious to see the constable, for he had real news to relate. A short time before, answering a ring at the station telephone, he had been informed by the deputy warden at Joliet penitentiary that Matthew Starn, a life convict, with two coldblooded murders to his discredit, had escaped from the prison and was believed to be headed in the direction of Denville.
“He’s a cool hand and a mighty desperate man,” warned the warden. “Don’t take any chances with him if you see him.”
A few minutes later, while Brown was straining his ears for the distant sound of the flyer’s whistle and his eyes for a glimpse of the constable, a man wearing an ill-fitting, rough, all-enveloping garment of blue and a blue cap of the same material, walked into the station.
“When is the next train to St. Louis?” he asked, his eyes boring into Brown’s.
The station agent had instantly recognized the odd garb of the man before him as the Joliet uniform. He fought to keep his tone even and casual as he replied: