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“Keep it quiet!”

“Hold on, boys,” the rail dick shouted “He’s OK He’s a Van Dorn private detective”

Mary Higgins rounded on Bell “What?”

Her eyes flashed Her cheeks flushed scarlet

“A Pinkerton!” she yelled, her voice not at all musical, and slapped Bell’s face so hard she knocked the tall detective sideways “You’re a Pinkerton?”

His disguise in shreds, Isaac Bell tried to explain, “No, Mary, I’m not a Pinkerton I’m a Van Dorn”

“What in hell is the difference? You’re all the same strikebreakers to me!”

She slapped hiain and stalked toward the hole in the fence

“You e should stop her?”

“There aren’t enough of you,” said Bell “Let her go”

“What line are you in, son?”

“Insurance Dagget, Staples & Hitchcock”

Bell had cleaned up at his lodging house and run with his bags to the train station, which was under construction and surrounded by an obstacle course of cursing carriage drivers and ht an extra-fare ticket on the Pennsylvania Special just as the express train pulled in froo Now, as the special’s loco an excellent cup of coffee in the dining car, sharing a table with three well-dressed co for breakfast

“Where you headed?”

“New York”