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The next morning, we had breakfast in our guest room. And, as I sipped my coffee, I could not help but chuckle at the article I read on the front page of THE DETROIT FREE PRESS.

"Editorial cartoon or comic strip?" asked Sir Anthony, as he came out of the bathroom from his morning ablutions.

"Neither one," I replied: "It seems the FBI have been called in, to solve the Mystery of the Missing Orphan Train. And, you'll never guess who they recruited to be _their_ special consultant on the case!"

"Would it, by any chance, be...Harry Houdini?"

He smirked as I dropped the paper to the floor.

"Now, how on Earth...?"

"Elementary, my dear Peter. He has made a name for himself, exposing those who prey on the grief-stricken as frauds and charlatans. Appleton, Wisconsin, is where he grew up after his family emigrated here, from Hungary. And, the town of Oshkosh is practically (if you'll pardon my use of the vernacular) within spitting distance of it! Ergo; who more logical to consult than the man originally known as 'Erich Weiss?' "

I picked the paper back up and resumed reading.

"Well, he's outdone himself, for showmanship, this time. Listen to this! 'Said Mr. Houdini at a press conference in Washington, yesterday: 'At this point, boys, you're guess is as good as mine. For all I know, right now, the train could have been carried off by some...super-zeppelin!' "

Sir Anthony shrugged: "That's certainly more plausible, to the common man, than a glorified were-harpy."

After I had finished eating, and taken care of my own ablutions, we went down to the office of the Lodge President. And, true to his word (which he had given us the night before, after supper), Mr. Chelgi was waiting for us.

"I'm sure you've already seen the morning headlines," he began: "So, it should come as no surprise that Sheriff Nellis had to return home, earlier than expected. He will be acting as local liason for the FBI, while Mr. Houdini re-examines the crime scene on their behalf."

Sir Anthony and I nodded our understanding.

"Any word from your man in the local Audobon Society, as yet?" the former now asked.

This time, Mr. Chelgi nodded. And, his expression was most grim.

"For a week prior to the orphan train's disappearance, reports were phoned into the society of an abnormally huge golden eagle that kept flying northwest-to-southeast, then back again. With the southeastern terminus of that flight path being the Lake Oshkosh region."

"And, the northwestern terminus?" inquired Sir Anthony.

"Chronological analysis of the sightings indicates the Sibley Peninsula region of Ontario," replied our host: "More specifically? The geological formation quaintly referred to as...Sleepy Giant Mountain!"

Needless to say, we were packed and ready to go within an hour. We were driven back across the bridge, to the airport where we had left the chartered Handley/Page. And, in less time than it takes to tell, we were bound northwestward in the direction of Lake Superior.

tbc
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