Free Swindled!: The 1906 Journal of Fitz Morgan by Bill Doyle

follow orders?” I snapped.
    “When they make sense, yes, I do,” William Henry shot back. “Stealing from poor Mrs. Notabe at a time like this, with her
     daughter just getting well. What were you thinking?”
    I couldn’t help wincing at his words, which were filled with disappointment. “Mrs. Notabe isn’t as innocent as she appears.”
    “And how about you?” William Henry’s eyes finally met mine and he studied me. “Are you all that you appear?”
    Now it was my turn to look down. Did he know I was a girl? The pots and pans made a strange tinny song as the rocking train
     banged them together. It seemed pointless to explain who I really was. If he was the poisoner, nothing I said would matter.
     And if he wasn’t, the truth about my identity would just add to his suspicions that I was up to no good.
    Taking my silence as an admission of some kind of guilt, William Henry said, “That’s what I thought. Now I have to finish
     the task Mr. Spike gave me. Not to worry, I won’t have this job for long. Once the Pinkertons discover that I’ve lost their
     daughter on board this train, I’ll lose this job faster than you can say ‘balloon juice.’” He started to leave the closet.
    “Wait! William Henry, listen to me.” I had to do something: I had to stop him! “I think we’re in danger. Everyone on this
     train is at risk!”
    “Yes, from children with too much freedom. But that’s about to be solved as well.”
    “You can’t lock me in here!” I said, shocked.
    “You’re right,” he said. My panic eased, but returned when he added, “There’s no lock on the door. So I’ll have to find another
     way.” With that William Henry took a screwdriver from the long pocket of his jacket and started to remove several screws from
     the doorknob. “You know why I like machines so much?” he said. “There’s a sense of order to them. You turn a switch and you
     know the light will come on. You twist a screw and you know a bolt will tighten. But people, that’s a different matter.”
    I didn’t know what to say.
    The doorknobs on both sides of the door loosened, and William Henry slid both of them out of the sockets and into his pocket.
    He was leaving. Do something! I shouted at myself. “William Henry,” I said. “Before you go, promise me one thing. Go to the
     Pinkerton Pullman. Look at the list of evidence we have on the chalkboard–”
    He just shook his head and cut me off. “We’ll let your family sort this out. Now I’ve got to track down your accomplice, Miss
     Pinkerton.”
    He closed the door, and I was left alone in the dark. The only light was the circular glow from the empty hole in the door,
     where the doorknobs used to be.
    I have to get out of here! I told myself. But how? Then I remembered something I’d learned from my father and got to work.
    SURVIVAL GUIDE
for
EVERYDAY LIVING

    Imagine your door is closed. You reach to open it and the doorknob is gone. Somehow, if fell off and disappeared. You have a tricky problem on your hands. But do not panic! The rod or spindle that edges turn the can that constricts the spring and pulls back the latch. This opens the door.
        How ever, you do not have a spindle, so you will need to make or find one of your own!
    I found a butter knife and used its dull edge to whittle a wooden spoon into the shape of a spindle. It look me a long time!
    The door to the Pinkerton Pullman opened with a loud click, and for once, I was happy for the deafening noise of the moving
     train. I had used my detective skills to escape from the storage closet and managed to sneak down the length of the train
     without being spotted.
    I had been hoping to find Judge in her family’s car, but she wasn’t there. The car’s windows framed the darkness of the outside.
     Without Judge there, the clacking sounds of the train echoed around the empty compartments like lonely ghosts. It made the
     car seem like a mobile haunted house.
    I knew that I had