Holding a hand to his eye, he retreated down the platform, fairly beaten off.
"There's a police officer," said Frank suddenly, noticing a man wearing a uniform come running down the platform from the direction of the waiting room.
"Oh, pshaw!" ejaculated his rescuer, springing nimbly to the platform of the nearest coach.
"Hold on, hold on," cried Frank—"I want to thank you, I—"
But his mysterious friend had sprung across the car platform in a jiffy. He was swallowed up in the darkness beyond.
"What's up?" hailed the policeman, running up breathlessly.
"A man tried to rob me," explained Frank.
"Thought I made out a struggle. Did he get anything?"
"No."
"Where did he go?"
Frank pointed towards the fan-shaped network of tracks melting into the gloom of the switchyards.
The policeman ran in that direction. Frank did not accompany him. He did not believe the officer would catch the thief. Besides, Frank was more interested in the strange young fellow who
